Three Violins
by Franta
Summary: Loosing an audition can be murder... Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The only parts of Law & Order: Criminal Intent I own are the Seasons 1 and 3 DVDs, though I'd love to own more, coughBobbycough- anywho, It all belongs to Dick Wolf who graciously lets me borrow them under the assumption that I won't have too much fun (but what fun would that be?)…

A quick little story before I launch you into Robert Goren's next latest/greatest adventure! (I lie). So, recently my dog had to have dental surgery, and because of the nature of his wounds, they were unable to sew up all of the holes where they had to pull teeth- anywho, you know that shakey thing dogs do- slobber, legs, and ears flopping and flying. Well, my dog still does that, only blood was added to the mix of slobber. So, he shook out a few times during the night and voila! Blood spatter on my wall! Shortly before my dog's blood spatter producing surgery, my brother was a witness to a grass fire near our house. Due to unfortunate circumstances, he was suspected of starting the fire. So, the local fire marshal came, read him his rights, interviewed him, and had him write a statement! So, the whole of all of this produced the coolest thing for a Law and Order freak- there was blood spatter on my wall, my brother was Mirandized, and there was an unmarked government vehicle in my driveway! How cool is that! (You'll all be happy to know that my brother was cleared and charges were never filed…but I did have to clean up the blood spatter off of my wall, it was starting to smell…)

Chapter 1

Bobby kissed Alex again and she kissed him back. She wanted to hold on to him. Never let him go.

She knew they could never be together openly and still keep their jobs. They had come dangerously close to separation only days before. Deakins had given them an ultimatum of sorts: keep your partnership and stop seeing each other, or well, the opposite. They understood that they couldn't work without the other, they just couldn't. So, a little hesitantly they had decided to stay together at work, and see how things went. They could always change their minds later…

His hands tightened around her waist as he buried his nose in her neck. _Oh, but I don't want to choose one or the other. And your back has to be hurtin' hunched over like that. I'm not exactly tall…_

"Bobby," she finally said. He grumbled. "Bobby, we were told one or the other-" Alex was struggling for words.

"And yet…" he whispered as he worked his way across her jaw to her mouth. He was absolutely right. They had been given a choice and once again found a way around it. _Damn him! Why does he always have to be right?_

"Damnit!" she shouted as she pushed Bobby away. She inched around him out of the corner to the coffee table where her cell phone sat ringing. She was still breathing heavily when she answered, "Eames." There was a pause. "Wha- oh, treadmill… Alright, I'll call him… Bye."

Bobby was looking at her; his hair was a complete scruffy disaster.

"Deakins wants me to come in, I'm supposed to pick you up on the way."

"You _do_ have the car."

"Well you'd better have the coffee ready when I get there," she replied. Bobby smiled adoringly at her.

One Police Plaza

Alex and Bobby stepped out of the elevator onto the 11th floor, rounded the corner, and headed towards Deakins' office.

"You rang?" asked Alex.

"What did you find at the Crime Scene?"

"Nothing new, same as the other 2. It fits the MO perfectly. Victim was shot from behind through the chest at their home, violin was gone, and the practice area was neatly arranged as with the previous 2 Victims. The only difference is that this violin was German and not French," said Bobby.

"A violin is a violin. This guy could be stealing them and selling them off," replied Deakins.

"Not necessarily. French Instruments and German instruments have distinctly different sounds. If our guy were in a theft racket of some sort why would he switch the style of instrument… No…The killer targeted these women for a reason. They were in their mid 30's, violins from the same era, the 2 Frenchies in a row were a rues. The person who did this knows the instruments, and knows the culture of an orchestra. Why else would they have arranged the practice area in the crime scene like they did? Everything was arranged to look like life was normal, but the instrument was gone. This guy wanted to snatch the music from these women. The question is why."

"Whoa, slow down there. Don't get all philosophical just yet. Find the guy first, then ask all of your fancy questions. Start with the orchestra, interview as many people as you have to. You say this guy knew his victims-"

"Probably-"

Deakins nodded to himself. "Then start with the people who knew them."

"The orchestra," Alex finished.

"The orchestra," repeated Bobby. They left Deakins' office and headed back to their desks.

"Hey Goren," said Deakins.

"Yah?"

"A word."

Bobby walked back into Deakins' office…this time without Alex. "What's got you so fired up? You know practically nothing about this case and you're already on one of your tangents."

"Sorry-"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, I was just curious. You and Eames seem to have recovered pretty well."

"We try, sir."

"Yah, I bet you do," he mumbled. "Well, alright. Get going with those interviews. And try and use your adrenaline to get this solved quickly."

"Will do, sir."

Bobby walked back to his desk. "What was that about?" asked Alex.

"Deakins thinks I have an extra spring in my step," said Bobby grinning. Alex laughed and reached for the orchestra roster on his desk.

"Oh great. 100 little cross breeding tortured artists."

Bobby automatically responded, "They're not _all_ tortured ar- Wait…" He looked up at her.

"Don't look so happy," she said, though her words belied her expression.


	2. Meastro Dragommi

Just one thing- the orchestra, the hall, the instruments, and the conductor are all figments of my imagination, but imagine the New York Philharmonic if you like…

Chapter 2 

Alex quietly entered the concert hall behind Bobby. The door gently shut behind her. They both silently made their way to a seat about half way across and looked down upon the orchestra below them.

"God, there's gotta be a hundred people there," she whispered.

"Ninety three," corrected Bobby.

"Excuse the hell outta me."

The hall was empty but for them and the orchestra on stage, which seemed unaware of their entrance. They sat in the emptiness just listening to the orchestra play. It was incredible. Alex looked around taking in the enormous hall around her and the sound that was enveloping her.

She turned to her partner who was breathing heavily. She almost wondered if he was having trouble breathing until she notice his breaths were somehow matching up with the music. Not in time…something deeper. Just when she herself was starting to feel it, the music taking control of her body- her soul- the conductor swung his baton and yelled, "Stop!"

Suddenly the stage was alive with chatting. What was a concert hall filled with something otherworldly was now just like any other place. People were chatting; putting their feet up on their knees, and the boss was up front was dishing out commands.

Alex was jerked from her serene state, and apparently so was Bobby. His shoulders jerked and her turned quickly and looked at Alex, who had the same startled look. She shook it off. "When will they be done?" she asked, but the question had just been answered for her. With another shout and waive of his baton, the conductor had dismissed the orchestra and people were getting up, walking off stage, mingling between sections, and practicing their instruments.

Alex and Bobby nodded to each other, got up, and walked down the aisle to the front. The podium was directly in front of them on the stage, which was about chest height.

"Excuse me, maestro. Could we have a word?" asked Bobby as he held up his badge.

The tall man stepped down from the podium and sat on the edge of the stage. "This is about Mary?"

"About all three, yes. Mary Steinman, Nicola Dominguez, and Halley Roberts," said Alex.

"Have you found anything yet?" he asked, crossing his arms with the baton still in his hand. It poked him in the armpit and he quickly unfolded his arms and reached up to set it on the podium. Alex laughed inwardly.

"Nothing yet, sorry. We were hoping we could have a word with each member of the orchestra individually. It won't take long, just 5 or 10 minutes per person."

"Ok…"

"We were thinking that we could speak to them individually during rehearsal. One person at a time- you'd still have a full orchestra."

"Unless you took my Tuba player," said the conductor cracking a smile. Bobby laughed.

"That's very funny," he began, but Alex cut him off.

"That will work then?" she said.

"Yes, I suppose," he said a little less gaily.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Dragommi," said Bobby as he shook the conductor's hand.

Alex and Bobby wandered back up the aisles and into the lobby.

"We need to find a place to talk to these people," said Alex.

"Here," said Bobby as he opened an unlabeled white door in the middle of the wall.

"Why here?" she said, but again, for the second time that evening, her question was answered by the conductor. He was standing in the middle of a crowded hallway chatting animatedly with two cellists. The door led backstage.

"How did you know," began Alex but Bobby quickly addressed the conductor again.

"Could we borrow one of the practice rooms for the interviews?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," he answered. Bobby shut the door with a smile.

"How did you know that was backstage?" Asked Alex, finishing her original question.

"I used to come here all the time when I was younger."

"Should have known as much," she said rolling her eyes with a smile.

Bobby flushed ever so slightly, then turned and opened the white door again. Dragommi and the 2 cellists were still standing there, deep in conversation. "Just one more thing- what's the most common way that you usually come across your instruments?"

One of the cellists turned to him. "I had mine made by Macica! Custom!"

The other turned. "Mine is an old Italian, circa 1800."

"Yes, but where," asked Bobby again rolling his eyes. His hand was still on the door handle.

"Oh…geeze. From an old luthier on 23rd. I think he got it at auction…"

"Thanks very much," he said with a smile and pulled the door closed again.

"We should check all of the local dealers and see if any new finds have turned up," he said to Alex before turning to open the stage door for a 3rd time.

"Now really, Detectives!" began the conductor, but Alex smiled apologetically, grabbed Bobby's hand that was on the handle and pulled the door shut with a "Just kidding."

Her hand was still on top of his, which was still on the door handle. "Alex," he began, but she cut him off.

"I know and you know that your 3rd question had nothing to do with the case," she said.

"There's no way you can know."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a knowing look. "Of course there is. I've seen that look you get when you're fascinated by something. It's a completely unrelated expression. Now, come on, you can look whatever it is up later in a boo-" The door flew opened and Alex and Bobby almost fell over as the second cellist opened it and walked out with cello in tow.


	3. A Life of Crime

Chapter 3

Alex sat down neatly in the chair next to Bobby. They were positioned at a small table in a small room in a small hallway. The room was the practice room Bobby was referring to the night before.

"This is smaller than I remember," he said, examining the bare white walls and the sloping blue ceiling.

"Please tell me how you are so familiar with all of this," said Alex a little on the annoyed side. It wasn't that she was jealous that he knew about all of _this_, but that he always seemed to be in his own little world. She just wanted in a little more.

"Oh, I had a friend who played Clarinet and we used to come here to see the concerts and visit his teacher afterwards. There was a whole group of kids who would come backstage, the place would always be mobbed."

"So you never played?"

"Sadly, no."

"Life of crime too appealing to you?" she smirked. "Were you off reading Sherlock Holmes while your friend was practicing?"

"Actually-"

But before he could finish, the door opened and the concertmaster entered the practice room.

He had his violin in his left hand with his bow hanging from the index finger, leaving his right hand free. He shook Bobby's hand, then Alex's, and then sat down. "I'm Robert Chambers."

"I'm Alex Eames, and this is my partner, Robert Goren." Chambers gave Bobby a sanctimonious nod that he returned as Chambers sat his violin on the table.

"Mr. Chambers, we just have a few questions…"

One Police Plaza

"Well, that was a waste of time," said Alex as she stepped off of the elevator ahead of Bobby.

"Not really," he said.

"How so? We spent 4 hours interviewing people just asking them where they got their instruments, how well did they know the victims, and which other member of the orchestra they were married to," she replied in an exasperated tone as she motioned a hand for each question. They made a b-line for Deakins' office.

"Or Civil Unioned to," added Bobby.

Alex shook out her shoulders. "Those guys were nuts."

"They were bassoonists…" he said, and upon seeing the glare from Alex he quickly added, "And _definitely_ not bitter enough to have committed the crimes."

"My point is, Bobby… That took way too long."

"It wasn't all bad," he said.

"That's right, I forgot you had a thing for harpists," she said wryly.

"That's not fair," he said shaking a finger at her. "You had more than your share of fun with that Bassist…"

"Big hands…"

"What's all this about?" asked Deakins as he opened his office door before they smashed into it for lack of attention.

"The interviews," said Alex.

"How'd they go?"

"We've got a list of luthiers and dealers, and narrowed it to the local ones and the ones that our three vics got their Violins from. Well, one of them is in Germany, another in France, _but_," he added hastily, "We're going to canvas the local places first to see if any of the violins have shown up in town."

"You have any leads yet?"

"Not really. None of the orchestra members seem to have any motive… They got a little competitive when it came to who had the better violin. You should have seen this one guy…"

"Maybe he got a little desperate for a better instrument?"

"It's not likely. That kind of competition drives people to find something better, not to match it."

"It's true," interjected Alex. "That guy just bought an Italian Violin with an estimated value of almost twice that of the most expensive violin that was stolen."

"And how much is that?"

"Sixty thousand," Bobby said lightly.

"Good Lord, that's an expensive ego boost."

"Our point exactly. Whoever murdered those women and stole those violins had a more personal motive."

"Well, get going," he said as Alex and Bobby headed for his office door.

Apartment of Alex Eames

Alex sat on the floor in her pajamas with her back against the couch between Bobby's legs- her favorite position- as she read through the list of luthiers. He leaned over her shoulder and looked at the list.

"So, how are we going to sell our French vacation?" she asked.

"By turning up nothing with the local guys," answered Bobby.

"Why do I have a feeling that's not going to happen?" she asked.

"Because it almost never works out that way," he answered sleepily, leaning back into the back of the couch.

"More coffee?" Alex asked turning towards him.

"No, I think just more sleep," he yawned.

Alex sat the list on the coffee table and repositioned herself on the couch, leaning into Bobby's chest. "Here's to French vacations-"

"-Or German ones-"

"And $60,000 violins…" Alex added dreamily.

They sat there with their eyes half closed. "Did you ever play?" asked Bobby.

"When I was really small. I took piano like all good girls should. I think I quit in the 3rd or 4th grade. I can't really remember."

"Why'd you quit?" he asked, stroking her shoulder.

"Sneaking my dad's handcuffs to school was way more fun," she said, and nodded off to sleep.


	4. France, Pants, and Violins

Quick note: The old couple in the concert (that won't appear until the next chapter) are dedicated to the group of about 10 elderly people who sat in the same section as me during Beethoven's 5th Symphony at the CSO this past Saturday night- they were obnoxious, but man, were they having fun! And the luthier is based off of a real luthier I met in Schuylerville, NY. He was really nice and made a good violin…had a cool cat too!

Thanks to all of my reviewers- everyone! And, no,TrinityWildcat, I didn't take that as a backhanded compliment- thanksso much for the encouragement!

Chapter 4

Bobby entered the luthier shop with awe in his eyes. He was like a kid in a candy store…

He walked slowly from violin to violin-there were dozens of them- looking and wishing that he knew enough to pick up every single one off of their hooks and play them like he knew what he was doing. It was a little annoying; here he was in a situation that could have used every ounce of his intellect. All he had to do was know a little more about music- anything about stringed instruments- and he would be able to pick out the differences each violin possessed, just as he picked out the details at crime scene. But alas, all he could bring himself to do was delicately raise a finger and pull on one of the strings. The violin rang a muffled, fuzzy G at his light touch.

Just then a man in an apron came out of a back room, wiping his hands with a rag. He was very tall and thin and in about his 40s. "Can I help you?"

"No, just looking- wait, sorry," Bobby regained himself. "I'm Detective Robert Goren of the New York Police," he said, flashing his badge, "and I have a few questions for you." There, that was more like it.

"I'm Mark Macica, What can I do for you?"

"We're investigating a crime that involved 3 stolen violins."

"Oh I heard about that," he said. "It was simply awful to hear about Halley, and her violin…" he trailed off.

"Halley bought her violin from you," said Bobby.

"Yes," he said fondly. "I'd like to see it again some day."

"Who else in the Symphony bought their instruments from you?"

"Oh, geeze, half a dozen or so. Larry, Michele, Laura (that was a beautiful viola), and a few others. I could describe the instrument to you, naturally, but I'd have to look up the rest of the names for you."

"Could you do that?" asked Bobby.

"Yah, sure." The gentleman walked back towards the back room and Bobby followed him.

"Did you make the violin that Halley bought from you?"

"No, I picked it up at auction."

"Could you write that down as well? And the date you bought it along with the date Halley bought it?"

"Sure." He turned to the paper he was writing on and added the name of the auction house and the dates. Bobby watched him carefully write on the paper 'Bailey's Auction. 9/21/92. Halley 12/06/92.' Contrary to what Bobby had expected, the gentleman's handwriting was sloppy and erratic. Bobby had expected handwriting to match the delicacy of woodcarving that violin making required, but it didn't. It was almost completely illegible…

One Police Plaza

"You were wrong?" said Alex on the verge of laughter.

Bobby was upset and excited all at once. "What? Look at it!" He handed her the piece of paper.

"Good Lord, it's a wonder that he can get his pants on with writing like that… How can you read this thing anyway?"

"I wasn't _that_ off my game, Alex."

"Of course, I forget. Only one mistake at a time…" Alex took a closer look at the paper. "Bailey's Auction. Never heard of it."

"Let's look it up." With some fast typing on Alex's computer, Bobby had pulled up the website for Bailey's Auction. Except… the website was in French.

"This guy failed to mention that he bought this violin in France?" asked Alex.

"Guess so," said Bobby shrugging it off, reading on totally unaware that Alex couldn't speak a word of French.

"So we're definitely going to France!" she said enthusiastically.

"You're going where?" asked Deakins as he walked up to the pair of detectives hunched over Alex's desk.

Alexlooked up. "The local luthier of the three originally bought the violin at auction in France, not far from where the other French violin was bought."She looked excitedly at Deakins. "Travel vouchers? Pleeeaaassseee…" she begged. Bobby was off still buried in the website.

"You can't just call these people? What else have you got?" asked Deakins.

"The luthier gave us the names of the members of the orchestra who bought from him, which matches up with the list we got from the players, so no surprises there. He gave us the name of the auction house and the date he bought the violin that he sold to our second victim, Halley Roberts. And… of course we haven't talked to the other two luthiers because they're in small-town France and Germany…" she looked away as if to say. 'Sorry, but we really can't proceed unless…'

"Alright, alright- I'll put in for travel vouchers. I'll need the locations of the luthiers to book your flights."

"Can do!" said Alex as she opened up he desk drawer, pulled out a manila folder and handed it to Deakins.

"Here's all the locations and information on the two luthiers… and there's a few hotel brochures as well…"

"Thanks, Alex, I get the point." He rolled his eyes. "Women and France…." He muttered as he walked off. Bobby was smiling very slightly at Alex's enthusiasm, though his gaze had not left the computer screen.

Alex swirled her chair back around to face Bobby. "What now?" she said in regards to their next move.

"I got us tickets," said Bobby.

"To where?"

"You'll see," he said smiling.


	5. The Concert

Sorry, this is a long one (I think it has busted 9 pages and 3,000 words!), but well worth it. It took me forever to write!… enjoy!

PS- it's pure fluff!

Chapter 5

Alex was putting in an earring in her left ear when she heard the doorbell ring. She floated across the room and opened it to find Bobby in his best suit: a dark blue jacket and pants, a light blue shirt, and a brilliant green tie that worked perfectly despite being so bright in contrast. Alex was totally unaware of this of course, as Bobby was well wrapped in his long coat and a scarf, though his cheeks were flushed and his nose was red.

He looked at Alex. She was beautiful, but in her normal elegant kick-ass way. She was wearing a black skirt and a dark red top- very similar to her favorite red tank top- and… "You've only got one earring on," said Bobby, reaching out to touch the dangling silver and crystal.

"Oh, yah. I was just putting them on when you knocked," she smiled.

"I rang the doorbell," he corrected.

"Right," she said as she scurried back across the living room to her bedroom to retrieve the other earring. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going yet?" she said slipping the pin through her other ear.

"Nope, It'll be obvious once we get there."

"Great, I love surprises," she said sarcastically. She hurried to grab her coat and purse, then led the way out to the SUV in her apartment parking deck.

"Did you really walk here?" she said. She clicked the unlock button.

"Yeah, it's a good walk, but I could always do with the exercise," he said.

"Yeah, right," she mumbled as she started the engine. "Ok, Buddy, you've got to tell me now because I can't take us there if I don't know where we're going."

"I'll give you directions," he said.

"Ok…"

Twenty minutes later Alex was fully aware of where they were. They were in the same building, the same concert hall, and the exact same seats they had sat in when they first came to talk to Mr. Dragommi.

There were, however, a few differences. The same building was alive with people and the smell of red wine. The same concert hall was full of people whose voices echoed as they carried on loud conversations. And the same seats had occupants on either side, as did the seats next to them, and the seats next to those, and so on.

"This isn't the same place," she muttered, walking through the lobby with her arm locked with Bobby's.

They wound their way through the crowds of adults their own age, adults way past their age, and finally around a pack of teenagers and college-aged students, towards the coat check.

"Those must be the offspring," muttered Alex as they passed the group of kids.

"Some of them," he said.

They checked their coats and finally Alex got a good look at what her partner was wearing. "I've always liked that suit," she said looking him up and down.

Bobby flushed. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Would you like some wine?" he asked, indicating the bar at the far wall.

"What, are you going to try to get me drunk in hopes that after all of this we'll saunter back to your place and…"

"Not at all," he said, cutting her off with a slight grin. "We're here for a bit of culture," he finished stately.

She looked at him. "Sure, I'll have a glass," she said smiling.

After they had each gotten through their glass of wine, Bobby led her through the doors into the concert hall and to their seats.

"So, what are they playing tonight?" she asked.

"Don Juan- it's a tone poem by Richard Strauss, and the Double Concerto for Cello and Violin by Brahms," he said.

"In that order?" she said, flipping through a small program in her lap.

"Yes. Don Juan is one of Strauss's earlier tone poems- it brought him his initial success- it's about, well, Don Juan," he chuckled, "And The Brahms Double was written for a violin friend of Brahms in hopes to reconcile a fight they had. It started off as a violin concerto and he later added the cello part."

"Good work! Nine out of ten," she said holding up the page in the program book where it more elaborately explained what Bobby had just said.

"Nine? Where'd you get that?"

"You missed Sibelius's Valse Triste. And I got it from the gentleman who showed us to our seats, not that we needed help," she said.

She had distracted him. He wasn't even paying attention to where he was going, what was going on around them, or anything Alex was doing. He was just thinking about her.

"Wait- I missed the Sibelius?" he asked, a little confused.

"Yep," she said. "But it's ok. I forgive you," she said locking her arm in his again and leaning into his shoulder.

They sat there, flipping through the program book with the white noise of conversation in the background, when their serenity was interrupted by a shrill, old voice.

"I don't need help!" she said at the top of her lungs. She reached her tiny, shriveled hand to the seat in front of her and hoisting her person up the single stair in one long, breathtakingly slow second.

She breathed deeply and her respirator clicked as it normalized the pressure in the tank her husband was carrying behind her.

"What are they playing?" she asked loudly before hoisting herself up another stair.

"Brahms, I believe," responded her husband, just as loud.

Bobby slipped out of Alex's hold and got up. "Can I help you?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"I don't need any help!" she repeated, though she smiled.

"You sure," he said, backing away.

"Oh yes, I've been hauling my ass up these stairs for 60 years, I don't need anyone's help." She lifted her leg and attempted to conquer a third stair, but failed. Her foot returned to the side of her other and regrouped before she attempted the incline again with her other foot. Success!

"Ok," said Bobby with a gentle smile.

Alex was watching and listening to all of this- it was hard not to- and spoke up. "Sixty years?" she said.

"Yes ma'am. I was not much younger than you when I first started coming here. That's how I met my Robert," she said fondly as her husband raised her oxygen tank in a toast-like fashion at the acknowledgement.

Alex for a split second looked horror struck, and then had to do everything in her power to keep from laughing. She smiled; a petty compromise. If this woman had guessed Alex's age correctly that put her at 90 at the least… And is this what Roberts turned into? Alex didn't know whether to be frightened or amused.

Bobby returned to his seat and Alex resumed her hold on his arm. The old couple had just made it to their seats when the lights dimmed, and the concertmaster came out on stage, followed by the conductor. When the applause had died down he raised his baton and started the orchestra in a sad, slow moving waltz (that would be the "valse triste" part). The piece only lasted for 5 minutes or so, but already Alex was feeling sleepy and slightly down.

Soon the piece was over, and if Alex was still feeling any kind of sad or sleepy it was quickly wiped away by the vigorous start of the Strauss. It was fast moving and full-bodied (no pun intended). And about 10 minutes into it she turned to Bobby, who was mouthing some words to a horn call, though she couldn't tell what they were.

There was something different about the concert from the tiny portion of rehearsal they had witnessed. Having the audience definitely helped with the whole feel of the music, but it seemed to have a different meaning. During the rehearsal they had felt almost like they were a part of the music. But now, during the concert, Alex felt distinctly like she was watching a show, that he music had lost a little bit of its soul now that it was on display for the whole world. A little bit of its secret had been revealed, and now it was naked. That didn't mean it wasn't still the coolest piece she had ever heard…

Soon the piece ended, fizzling out rather than the loud obnoxious ending she had expected. It was almost a shock how it ended, but it made sense. On the whole it was a pretty short first half, as the second would be.

Bobby looked over to see her clapping with the rest of the audience, but unlike them, she had a slightly confused look on her face. Almost as if she didn't know what to think, or was perhaps holding back a fart- he really couldn't tell. But then again, even Bobby is a guy…

"What did you think?" he asked her.

"It was really nice. I liked the Strauss. It was very cool."

"You looked a little confused," he said.

"The ending was weird- well, not weird, just different. And the whole thing felt a little different than before."

"What do you mean?" They began to shuffle out of the row and back towards the lobby.

"I'm not sure. It felt different from the rehearsal we saw."

Bobby thought about it for a moment. "I think I know what you mean," he said a little distantly.

There was a long silence. "Well?" she said.

"Just wait and see," he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and walking through the doors into the lobby.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she said.

"What?"

"Your little surprises," she said.

"That's just it. They're surprises," he said smiling.

"You don't have to show off how smart you are, I'm already well aware of and in admiration of it- just tell me."

"Ok fine, I'll show you now," he said. "Follow me."

She sighed. "This isn't telling me, Bobby."

"I don't care," he said as he led her down the stairs into a hallway she hadn't previously seen.

They went through 2 pairs of doors, which led them back into the concert hall, but to the first 5 rows of seats. He stopped and turned to her.

"How much of a stickler are you for balance and perfection?"

"That's a stupid question, Bobby, and you know it."

"Fair enough. My point is that you are going to have to sacrifice the balance of sound, the perfect view, and anything else that you enjoy in the best seats."

"I can do that," she said, starting to smile. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked, looking her directly in the eye.

"Yes," she answered, looking directly back at him.

"Then let me surprise you," he said leaning in to kiss her.

He pulled away from her and looked at her again. "Ok," she said softly.

With that he took her hand and led her to 2 empty seats in the second row to the right of center stage.

"Are we allowed to do this? How do you know these seats aren't taken?" she asked, smiling almost as if she were about to get busted and would love every second of it.

Bobby looked over and saw the genuine smile on her face. That, coupled with her questions, gave him an image of her pulling her badge out and telling an usher to stuff it while she enjoyed the rest of the concert that _he_ had brought her to…

"The ushers don't care, and people are smart enough to leave their jackets and programs in the seats they want saved through intermission," he said. Alex relaxed. Bobby's thought bubble deflated.

They sat down in the seats and watched the stage. Soon, musicians came trickling onto the stage with their instruments and Alex experienced on a more secret level what she witnessed at the rehearsal. They _were_ carrying on full conversations, messing around, and acting normal. All the tension that she had experienced sitting in her original seats had vanished. Now that she was practically on the stage with the musicians she saw again what she had seen before. Everything was much more relaxed.

But Bobby had been right. Once the soloists came out on stage and the piece began it became obvious that the balance was not perfect, and she definitely couldn't see the entire orchestra, and- "Oh my god- she's wearing tapered ankle, waisted pants!" she said in an exclaimed whisper- she could now see quite a few gaping holes in fashion sense.

However, with the sacrifices came exactly what Bobby had anticipated: the experience was more real- less detached. And even though the sound wasn't perfect, the music had regained its life, and the soloists- the cellist at least; she couldn't see the violinist- looked exactly how they sounded. The music wasn't just some heavenly anomaly any more; it was real human experience.

Soon the piece was over- and though the last movement had filled them both with a sympathetic rage (Alex could have sworn the solos represented a couple fighting), they both made their way out of the concert hall with a sense of satisfaction.

"That was so cool!" said Alex.

Bobby laughed. "I'm glad you liked it."

"That was awesome."

"Just one more surprise," he said, leading her off through a familiar white door in the wall. "This," he said, "is how I know."

Alex had never seen anything like it. Musicians, people, and small children were all running around the place. They were talking and chatting as they had done before, but this time there was the adrenaline of the performance in the air. Everything was a little louder than before. Alex was overwhelmed.

"Bobby!" said an old, scratchy voice. An old man in plain clothes walked up to Bobby.

"Hey Greg," he responded back. "How's it hangin'?" The two shook hands.

"Not bad, not bad. Who's this pretty lady you have with you?"

"Oh, this is my partner from work, Alexandra Eames."

"Nice to meet you Alexandra," said the old, balding man. He leaned in with a sly grin on his face. "I haven't seen Bobby here in ages- not since I was playing here. How'd you get him back?" he whispered.

Alex laughed. "Totally his own idea, I can assure you."

"Marjorie told me about all your questions the other day. Those poor ladies," he said.

"You know I can't discuss that," said Bobby. "I was just showing Alex around. We'd better get going. Got a full day of work tomorrow."

"Well, you let me know how it goes, ok?"

"I'll send what word I can through Marjorie," he replied as he led Alex back out the door into the lobby. "That's a hazard of going back there: old talkative men."

"He wasn't that bad," she said kindly.

"I didn't let him get started," he whispered and they headed back through the crowds towards the SUV.

They pulled up to the street in front of Bobby's apartment ("No, I will not let you walk back alone in the dark!"). "Well," Alex began, but she was cut off.

Bobby kissed her, and she kissed him back. She wanted to say a million things all about the evening, but this just seemed a better way to communicate it. Bobby reached and cupped her face and she put her hand on the one holding her cheek. She pulled her lips away from his. "You'll let me go early enough to get some clothes in the morning?"

"Yes, of course," he mumbled as he tried to kiss her again.

"Let me find a parking spot…"

Once Alex had parked the SUV and they had made it into the elevator, Bobby quickly pushed the button and began to kiss her again, running his hands up and down her back. The elevator bell dinged. They walked out of the elevator, down the hallway to his door, and once they were inside Alex dropped everything and they, still kissing and not really watching where they were going, worked their way across the room towards Bobby's room.

Alex woke to the sound of Bobby's alarm clock and lifted her head to see that it was 6am. She then looked at Bobby, who was lying next to her. "Bobby," she whispered. There was no response. "Bobby." Nothing. "Goren!" she pushed on his bare shoulder.

He awoke with a start and looked at her (a smile immediately spread across his sleepy face). "S'up? Time to go already?"

"We've got work," she said.

"Ok," he said, quickly reaching for her and pulling her on top of him before she could escape. "Thanks for coming last night," he said as he pushed her hair out of her face.

"It was wonderful. But I do have to know one thing," she said.

"Anything."

"What were the words you were singing to the horn call in Don Juan?"

"Oh," Bobby laughed, wiping sleep from his eye. "Uh…" he hesitated before singing very softly, "Don Juan gets laid more than I do, he's such a stud, and I'm a dud…"

Alex laughed hysterically. "You're shitting me, right?"

"No," he said enthusiastically. "There is an alternate version as well."

"Oh God, do I even-"

"Don Juan gets laid more than I do, it's so unfair, why can't he share?"

"Robert Goren! Stop it!" she said unable to control her laughter.

"Ok, ok, fine. Go. I'll see you at work," he said smiling as Alex lifted herself out of bed, pulled on her skirt and one of his t-shirts, and then left the room silently grinning from ear to ear.

---------------- In case you haven't figured out by now, this is almost identical to every concert going experience I have. If you take away Alex and Bobby (and everything that goes on between them), but leave everything else, and insert yourself, I swear this is just what going to the Symphony is like. And yes, the ushers really don't care if you move around during intermission…


	6. Goren's Travel Buddy

Chapter 6

Alex walked into One PP followed by Bobby, who meandered in about 5 minutes behind her, but beforehe had evenreached his deskDeakins walked up to them. "I got your travel vouchers."

"Yes!" said Alex.

"Actually, Eames, can I see you in my office?"

Eames excited expression was replaced by a quizzical one almost immediately. "Yah, sure Captain."

She followed Deakins into his office where a gentleman was sitting on one of the visitors' chairs. Deakins shut the door and blinds behind them.

"Eames, uh," Deakins rubbed his neck. "This is Jason Manning from IAB."

Eames immediately got a furtive look. Jason got up and held out a hand that she didn't take. He was in his mid 40s, balding, and was a little on the short chunky side.

"Like I was saying earlier, I've got the travel vouchers, but-"

"Due to the recent…situation," interrupted Jason Manning, "You will not be allowed to travel with Detective Goren."

Alex looked immediately to Deakins. "What?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"You can't go with Goren," said Deakins letting out a long tense breath.

"What do you mean, I can't go with Goren?" said Alex with her eyes bulging. "Wait, let me rephrase. Goren's going, and I'm not. Is that what you're saying?"

"Eames, it was out of my control-"

"Detective Barek will be traveling with him instead," interjected Manning almost too business-like.

"What!" she shouted incredulously before turning to Jason Manning with a sweet smile. "Could you please excuse us?"

Manning nodded and left the office.

"I'm not allowed to travel with Bobby?"

"Alex, you must understand what it looked like to IAB."

"We were cleared-" she began.

"Alex, you two were _just_ under investigation. What did you think they would say when I asked for two tickets to Paris and Stuttgart with your names on them? Alex, I'm sorry. I really am."

"And so you're sending Barek! They're not even partners- where's Logan in all of this? Couldn't he go instead?" Alex was going crazy. She wanted to rip all of her hair out in frustration.

"Eames, calm down. That wasn't my decision either."

"They must be out of their fucking minds!"

"Alex," he said softly. "This isn't the time to get jealous."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. And it's totally understandable, but there's nothing I could do. I already pissed off a lot of people by keeping you two together; this is IAB trying to regain control."

Alex realized there was no fighting it. "Fucking butt-munches," she said exasperatedly.

"Tell me about it," he said, rubbing his forehead.

Steam still spilling from her ears, Alex turned for the door. "Well, I guess I'd better go tell Bobby."

"You should. And Alex," he said, "Chin up."

"Yah, sure, Captain."

Alex slammed the door behind her as she walked back to her desk and Bobby, who looked up from the itinerary he was given.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

Alex threw herself into her chair. "IAB won't let me go."

"What?"

"You heard me," she said irritably.

"Hey, Goren!" came a shout from across the room. Barek was making her way towards them with a nervous smile.

"Hey," he replied, his attention still on Alex.

"Guess we're travel buddies," she said, pulling up a chair and straddling it.

"Eh, oh…" he turned to Eames. A lot of curse-filled whispering ensued in which a combination of putting the puzzle pieces together and Alex talking gave Bobby the full scope of the situation.

"Shh!" she whispered quickly. "IAB won't let me go- she's going instead," she said in a harsh whisper while Barek distracted herself.

"What!" he shouted incredulously before turning to Barek with a sweet smile. "Could you please excuse us?"

"Yah, sure," she said as she rolled backwards in her chair back to the desk it belonged to.

Bobby turned back to Alex. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stay and canvas the auctions and music shops to see if the instruments show up. I'm also going tointerview the families of the vics as well."

Bobby looked sad. "Well, ok... I could always not go."

"You have to…Damn IAB…"

"Fucking butt-munches," he said bitterly. Alex laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I said the exact same thing to Deakins."

"We've been spending way too much time together," he said, relaxing.

"Tell me about it. Next thing you know we'll be dressing the same with out planning it."

"I think someone would notice," he said, smiling lightly.

"Probably." For those blissful few seconds Alex was far removed from her anger and frustration, far removed from the thought of Barek getting to trip to France with her partner instead of her, far removed from the case, and far removed from the outside world.

She was yanked from her state of bliss by Barek's reappearance. Taking their relaxed attitude as a sign they were accepting visitors again, she had wandered back over.

"Robert, do you think I could get a ride to the airport with you tomorrow?"

"I don't know." He turned to Alex. "You driving?"

A muscle in her eye twitched. On top of all that, she was still his damn chauffer! "Yah, I suppose," she said to Bobby before turning to Barek with a sigh. "Yah, sure."


	7. Finding A LongTerm Partner

Oh… my… God… I am so sorry for the serious delay in posting. I know I left you all with a bastard of a cliff hanger and then didn't post for like a month (you may all poke me with sticks if you wish)… However, in my defense, the inspiration bunny left me for a spell, I had a fight over colleges with my bass teacher (it was emotionally wrecking), and I've been scrambling to keep up with schoolwork and college applications, so please forgive me… and woot woot for Bobby and Alex in The Wee Small Hours (it seems like so long ago)… they were so cute… So, without further ado…

Chapter 7 (warning, fluff alarm)

Bobby followed Alex into her apartment, closing the door behind them as he watched her throw her keys on the table with her bag. He carefully set down his notebook and hung up his jacket before straightening her pile of things on the table.

"So- we're just going to run up the phone bill?" he said awkwardly.

"Unless you have a better plan. I'm giving you my laptop. E-mail is also a good form of communication."

"I would rather hear your voice," he said as he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around he waist.

"Don't worry, you'll be glad for the break," she said standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He kissed her back.

"Fucking Bastards," he mumbled as he buried his face in her neck.

"You can complain about them all you want later. I need to eat dinner and you need to get some sleep, your flight leaves ridiculously early tomorrow," she said freeing herself from his embrace.

"You take all the fun out of it," he said.

"It's my job," she said before he leaned in and kissed her again.

Alex kissed him back and they kissed for what must have been five or ten minutes before Bobby pulled away to look at her (his left hand was now underneath her shirt and resting on the skin of her hip)

"You are so manipulative," she said.

"It's my job."

"I am going to make dinner now," she said as she stepped away from him and headed towards her kitchenette.

"What are you going to make?"

"Salad. I have a feeling you'll be eating a lot of cheese while you're in France… And so help me, Robert Goren, if you do not bring me any back, I will strangle you personally."

"You like cheese?" he asked. This was a new piece of information. _Rolodex under C._

"I'm only obsessed with the stuff."

"Ahh…"

"Does Barek know about your many languages?" she asked over her shoulder as she stabbed a head of lettuce with a fork, and then looking at it as if it were supposed to serve itself now that she had stabbed it.

"I don't know. I've heard rumor that she knows quite a few herself."

"Hey Bobby?" she asked, poking the lettuce with her index finger.

"Yah?"

"Show her up," she said looking at him with fire in her eyes.

He blushed. "Eames…"

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The next morning Alex pulled up to the curbside check in. "Ok guys, Airport, get out of my car and lock my doors."

"That's cold. No goodbye?" said Bobby.

"I can't," she said stiffly.

Bobby gave a nervous look to Barek, who was sitting in the backseat.

"It's ok. I won't tell," she said smiling.

"Thanks," said Bobby before he leaned across the seat and planted a kiss on Alex's cheek. She blushed slightly then kissed him back lightly on the lips.

"Ok, now go, before you miss your plane."

"I'll call you night and day," he said, closing the door.

"My name is Alex!" she shouted after him with a smile.

After making their way through check-in, security (which wasn't as painful as it could have been because they had badges), and the boarding gate, they were sitting on the plane waiting for it to take off and they hadn't said so much as one word to each other. Bobby's nose was buried in Alex's laptop, his notebook open in his lap below the tray holding the computer up.

Barek felt she needed to break the silence. "So, uh… How long have you and Eames been partners?" she asked casually.

"Five years, I think," he said, not looking up from what he was typing. Whatever it was, it had reached roughly the length of a small novel.

"Wow, the longest I've ever lasted is 1 year."

"What about the FBI?"

"That's where there were the most problems. I've always had problems holding on to partners. People think I'm weird. I think the only reason Logan works well with me is because he doesn't pay attention."

"That sounds incredibly sad," he said matter-of-factly, looking up from the screen finally.

"Yah, well."

Bobby breathed. "I hadn't been able to hold on to a partner for longer than 14 months myself… well, that was before Eames…"

Carolyn smiled. "She's a funny woman."

"How so?"

"I'll refrain from my usual personality breakdown."

Bobby looked at her. "You do that too, huh?"

"I studied a little when I was in college…"

Bobby's eyes widen momentarily before returning to their normal state.

"What are you typing?" she asked, nodding towards the very long piece of writing on the laptop.

"E-mail to Eames," he said returning to it with great haste. Barek didn't say anything, but simply nodded.

Just then the little ding came on the over-head speakers and Bobby was forced to turn off his cell phone (which he checked one last time to see if Alex had sent him a message), save and close his e-mail to her (which was pushing 3,000 words after the short 15 minutes he had been working on it- he typed incredibly fast), and shuffle all of his papers back into his notebook so he remove it and the laptop to close the seat tray.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One PP

Alex pulled into her parking spot and walked into the office. After getting out of the elevator she walked over to her desk and sat down expectantly in it. She automatically reached for the sides of her laptop to open it, but it was not there. She looked across her desk to her partner, but he was not there. She sighed. Not only was she seriously annoyed at IAB right now for screwing with their investigation, but she was already missing Bobby.

"Well, I guess I'd better go do some more interviews," she said to herself as she made to get out of her chair.

"Need some company?" asked a familiar voice from behind her.

She turned around. "No thanks, Logan, I'm good."

"You forget they stole my partner too," he said, popping an M&M into his mouth.

Alex didn't know what to say, so she didn't saying anything immediately. Her phone rang, startling her. She answered it. "Eames… yes, we are looking for a vio-… ok, thanks, I'll be right over."

Logan looked at her expectantly.

"A violin just showed up at auction that matches the description and maker of one of the Frenchie's," she said getting up to grab her coat.

"I'll come with," said Logan.

"No thanks," she said as she headed off for the elevator with her coat and bag.

Logan popped another M&M. "Women… wallowing in self-pity all the time," he mumbled. _Weren't you the one wallowing in self-pity on Staten Island for 10 years?_ said a voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Barek's. "Ok, ok…" he responded to the mental Barek before heading back to his desk.


	8. The eMail

Oh, in response to that one review. Bobby doesn't have a mental Eames for stability like Mike does for Barek. He's got a "condition" that allows him to predict the sarcastic wisdom she might impart… well, you'll see…

And I made a numbers mistake in the last chapter… I'm sure Bobby could easily type Alex a 3,000-word e-mail, but _I _can't, so the e-mail will be substantially shorter- like 500 words or so…

Chapter 8

Bobby woke with a start. The overhead ding and the return of the overhead lights told him that the plane had landed and was taxiing on the runway at the Stuttgart Airport. Had it really been 12 hours already?

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and turned to see Barek staring at him almost as if she were in a trance. She certainly had not realized that he was awake and moving. "Barek?"

She snapped to life. "Wha- oh, sorry… fell asleep."

"Your eyes were open."

"They sometimes do that."

Bobby shook out his head before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and turning it on. There were two messages waiting for him from "AEames".

He read the first text carefully: "_The French violin belonging to Nicola Dominguez has turned up at auction in Manhattan. Buyer was a Carey Lawrence. Will e-mail details. Miss you."_

The second read:_" :-) Mike's getting antsy."_

"Excellent," he whispered as he flipped his phone shut.

"What is it?" asked Carolyn. She wanted to lean over to see what was on his phone, but thought better.

"One of the violin's turned up at auction, so we can bypass the luthier in Paris and narrow our search at the auctions. Oh, and Mike says hi."

She was a little surprised. No, not that Mike had sent word to say hi (she had a feeling he would get bored). She just assumed that she was just a travel buddy. She had no real knowledge of the case, and Bobby seemed totally eager to communicate with Alex in whatever way he could to ensure they were still a functioning team, even if there was an ocean between them. She hadn't expected to be treated as an equal. She was surprised by how accommodating and nice he was. She kind of assumed that being known as the city's best pair of detectives might have gone to his head, or he would put up a fight for being separated from his partner for not wanting to mess with his system. But he didn't seem to have any of those traits. And he really wasn't _that_ odd, now that she thought about it some more… and had looked over his features while he slept on the plane… "Sure, what would you like me to do?"

But before he could answer, the plane pulled into its gate and they began to empty the plane, starting with the first-class cabin that their seats were in (that the NYPD had surprisingly sprung for- _"First class, eh?_ He could hear her say._ I smell free booze.")_. He once again closed his notebook, grabbed Alex's laptop from under the seat in front of him, got up, and then made his way through the narrow isle after Barek, typing "_you too_" on his cell phone with one hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night Alex sat down at one of the spare computers in the squad room. She had already retrieved the violin from the auction house and was getting ready to send Bobby an update on her progress.

She had gotten there about 45 minutes after she had hung up the phone with the representative from the auction house. When she got there she was led to the room where the violin was being kept until the winning bidder came to pick it up (_"And why did you flag it as one of the missing violins after you had sold it? Thought you could get some money out of this? Oh, wait, now you're going to have to hire a lawyer to sort this mess out, which will actually cost you money. So really, it was just sheer stupidity."_). She took a good look at it, had CSU take lots of photos of it from all angles in an effort to anticipate either Bobby's needs or that of the luthier's so he could identify it, and then had the representative download and print all of the information on the winning bidder for her files.

So, here she was, on some old Window's 95 PC in the corner of Major Case, begging the machine to open Internet explorer so she could send Bobby an e-mail. Five minutes of begging, coaxing, screaming, and hitting-the-damn-thing later she had gotten the page to load and she was reading the novel Bobby had sent her:

"_Eames- The airport was uneventful, though one of the officers tried to get frisky with Barek, but that was before she pulled her badge and the consequential attitude. It was most excellent."_

Alex laughed. She could just imagine Barek's response.

"_I think the security officer had a serious issue with being at his said post. It seems to me like he really hated his job, or resented others who had a higher rank than him. He tried to exude authority over Barek and got really territorial when we showed him our badges. My guess is that he's off the tail end of a broken marriage_…"

"Move on, Bobby," she said with a smile before she continued reading.

_"…Probably is having trouble paying child support with his incredibly unsatisfying job. Poor guy. But it's just speculation. No reason or need to look into it…"_

Alex rolled her eyes.

_"…Just a few things I forgot to mention and some of my notes. Have you finished the vic's families' interviews yet? I can look at those transcripts when I get back unless something important surfaces…"_

Sarcastically: "Yah, I'll get right on typing those out, buddy."

_"…Uhm, we should probably find the history of the victims as well, just in case someone resurfaces. The personal motive leads me to believe that this guy might have had some connection with the victims in the past tense. Or even the violins- yah, actually, we should get the violin history too. The violins were stolen, so the killer might have just as strong a connection to the violins as to the victims. Actually, now that I think about Barek's security guard, stealing the violins might have been a display of power, and since it wasn't the usual vulgar display of power over women, it was probably a musician, or, again someone who might have a connection to the victims or the violins. Could you overnight the orchestra interview tapes to the hotel in Paris? I would like to listen to those again…"_

"Go figure." Alex rolled her eyes again.

_"…Congratulations on getting the Dominguez violin. It's really reclusive of you to not let Logan help you (which is what I am assuming you are doing if he is starting to feel "antsy"), but I wouldn't expect any different from you…"_

"Well, I never…"

_"…I understand how you must feel about being left behind…"_

"Oh, now you know all about my feelings, do you?"

_"…IAB has always been a little insensitive when it came to those things…"_

"Tell me about it."

_"…It is rather annoying that I'm stuck here while you have to deal with all of the follow up proceedings on the Dominguez violin…"_

She put the back of her hand to her forehead. "The guilt is unbearable!" she said with a melodramatic sigh.

"…_Which is further reason why you should let Logan help you…"_

"Yah, yah."

_"…But I understand if you don't want him to. Barek and I were stuck in coach. There really isn't enough legroom. I think I'm going to ask for a fire-exit row on the way back…"_

"Nice try, I know you were in first class."

_"…Oh, and US customs won't let me bring cheese back- I checked…"_

"Damn."

_"…Please don't kill me…"_

"I'll do my best," she said with a smile.

_"…Thanks, talk to you later, Goren."_

Alex smiled at the e-mail. Sure, she was totally worked up, but on the whole it had been a fairly nice e-mail, she was just… still trying to deal.

"How's the soap opera? Let me guess, the computer thinks that the monitor is carrying its child, but it's actually carrying the desk's. And the mouse is grappling with the fact that the mouse pad has been cheating on it with one of those little thumb-roller mouses and that's it was actually it's mother that…"

"Shut up," she said to Logan, who was standing behind her. "It was an e-mail from Bobby."

"Ooh, even better. Allow me rephrase: Bobby thinks that you're carrying his child but it's actually-"

But before he could say whose child Alex might have been carrying instead, she had lobbed a skittle at his forehead. It hit him with surprising force.


	9. Getting Dressed Is Hard To Do

I should kill myself for writing this instead of frantically filling out a college application due on Dec 15th… And I apologize if I get the time zones screwed up; I'm assuming there is a 7-hour difference since London is a 6-hour difference. I could check, but I'm just too lazy, so we'll say it's 7…

Chapter 9

Bobby walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He crossed the room to the desk containing the laptop. He had set it up with a wireless Internet connection and had sent Alex the short story he had written only about half an hour ago.

He saw that he had a new e-mail.

_"Bobby, Wish I could have been there to see Barek give that security guard the what-for. Sounds like a hoot. I bet you freaked him out real good- only next time you don't have to go into suspect analysis mode."_

He smiled slightly.

_"Or maybe you were just practicing… get me the guy's name if you can and I'll do a little digging. Five bucks says you're right."_

"Practice?" he whispered.

_"I haven't typed up the familial interviews yet, but I'll listen through them again and highlight the good parts. I like the idea of looking into the victims' and the violins' history. I'm looking into Carey Lawrence. He's 45 years old. Married, 2 teenage kids, no immediate connection to any of the victims that I can find (I called the families of the vics and asked if they knew him, they'd never heard of him, and he said he didn't know them either), but I'll do that digging that you asked for and see if there is any history they might conveniently be unaware of. He doesn't have any history with the auction house- he said it was an investment. Hard to see how a 45-year old man with teenagers can have a $50,000 investment, in a violin no less, but whatever."_

"A $50,000 investment?"

_"I have a follow-up interview with him set up for tomorrow morning."_

"Excellent."

_"I'm not sending you the orchestra interview tapes- you've got jetlag and a lot to do."_

At this he was slightly annoyed.

_"I'll listen to them for you tonight (don't worry, I've got plenty of coffee and a little more experience with musicians under my belt) and see what I can find."_

"But what if you miss something? Just send me the tapes."

_"Trust me."_

Surprise crossed his face. 

_"Sharp as always on figuring out that I'm flying solo- Logan's got a nice skittle-sized mark on his forehead."_

At this he laughed openly. "I've got to show this to Barek."

_"Honestly I'd rather work alone and send you e-mails than have him tagging along. He's a sharp guy, but his sense of humor is too dry and he's too much of a smart ass."_

"He Sounds just like you."

_He needs a sign that says, 'Doesn't work well with others.' But then again, I think we all do, otherwise we wouldn't be partnered with each other (Mike and Carolyn included)."_

"You're telling me…"

_"Damn shame about the cheese, and I know all about First Class- do I smell free booze? What's the brass playing at? ;-)"_

His smile broadened.

_"Oh, and I had to break into your apartment to grab the file on Nicola Dominguez that you left in there. Don't worry; I didn't go digging around or nesting; and I replaced the lock."_

"Damnit, Eames…"

_"Also, attached are a few photos of the violin so you can have the luthier in Paris ID it- the label on the inside of the back is a perfect match to what Dominguez's insurance company had in their records, but the Captain would like to be double sure. I think that's it for now. Call me when you can. Alex."_

Bobby immediately began fumbling through his pile of things on the desk, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed her number. Then he realized he was cold for lack of clothing and his curly hair dripping onto his back. He crossed the room towards his suitcase. Crap! Too late- "Eames," she answered groggily.

"Hey, it's Goren."

"Oh, hey Bobby. Did you get my e-mail?"

"Yah, sounds good. Wish I could do more to help." He held the phone to his shoulders as he dug out his nightshirt. It was about 4am and he only had a little time to get some sleep before he and Barek were off to interview the luthier and search through tons of customs records tracing instruments that had come in and out of the country.

"It's no problem," she said over a yawn.

"Did I waked you?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm just listening to those interview tapes again. It's only 8ish or so here."

"Oh, ok."

Alex heard a loud THUMP! followed by "Shit!"

"Bobby? Are you alright?"

Bobby scrambled to his feet, desperately trying to untangle the pants from his ankles that had cause his quite literal downfall. "Yah, I'm fine. Could I call you back in 2 seconds?"

"Yah, sure."

"Thanks, I'll call you right back."

"Sure." She hung up very confused and looked down at the mess on the floor. Tons of transcripts, files, and who knows what else lay scattered at her feet at the base of the couch. She looked around, really wishing Bobby were there to help her sort through this mess. However, if she had been in Europe with him, God only knows what kind of mess would be waiting for them when they got back. But that didn't stop her from wishing he were there. She didn't really miss him as a companion at the moment, just as her partner, which was bad enough.

Her phone rang again. "Hey."

"Sorry about that, I tripped over my pants."

"I don't even wanna know."

"Probably not. It's rather embarrassing. So, you're going through those interviews again? What have you found?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "Really. It's everything that we remember. There is nothing suspicious mentioned, not even an unnatural inflection in the voice. I had ran all of their names through the system, nothing but standard traffic violations. I really don't think any of the orchestra was involved." She heard him breathe in, getting ready to speak. "There's nothing, Bobby. Trust me."

"Damn it, so we're back to square one?"

"Looks that way. Boy was Deakins pissed when he found out."

Bobby leaned back on his bed and sighed. "Alright. Uh," he rubbed his forehead, "What about Laurence?"

"Interview's tomorrow, but he looks clean too. We're getting nowhere, Bobby."

He didn't want to give up that easily. "Shit… Ok," he said getting up, his mind racing. "Find everything you can about the Dominguez violin, her, her family, and Laurence. If there's anything you haven't done, do it. I want to be absolutely sure that there's nothing connecting any of them to her or that violin before it came into her possession. Because, if there isn't, this may very well have been a decoy to throw us off of the original crime, and until we find the others, we won't know which was the original target, or if it's still out there… This has to go back to someone connected with the victims or the violins… And if there's no connection with this one, then there definitely is with one of the others, if not both."

Alex mulled it over. "You're probably right. And knowing our luck-"

"-It'll be the next one, Eames. You know, for all the cases that get kicked to Major Case, the criminals really aren't any smarter than usual… their crimes are just more grandiose in scale…"

"I hope you're right," she said, picking up her tea mug and taking it to the kitchen for a refill.

"And Eames?"

"Yah?"

"What the hell is 'nesting'?"

"Oh." She laughed. "It's nothing, it's what females do to houses… blessing and a curse, really… You're not mad I had to go into your apartment, are you?"

"Nah, I trust you, and there's really nothing in there I wouldn't want you to see anyway. I've got secrets, but not from you."

"That's very sweet, Bobby," she said smiling.

For some reason, it's always easier for people to show emotion on their faces when they're talking on the phone. I guess it's because the other person can't see Alex Eames blushing right now that makes it ok for her to do so.

"Well, thanks for keeping me posted. I need to get what little sleep I can before Barek and I are off tomorrow. Thanks for everything."

"No problem, take care, Bobby."

"Bye, Alex." And with that, Bobby climbed under the covers and fell asleep almost instantly.


	10. Mary And The Banker

Woohoo! The plot has returned! But fear not, i've got more fluff coming...

Chapter 10

The next morning Bobby and Carolyn exited their neighboring hotel rooms at the same time and turned to see if the other was out, only to see the other doing the same. Not only that, but they were suits in the same shade of grey. Carolyn's was just a bit more feminine. It brought out her curves nicely and went well with her wavy hair-

They simultaneously turned and went back into their hotel rooms. Bobby quickly changed his pants and jacket and then exited the room again, expecting to find that Barek had changed as well. But there she was, in that same beautiful grey suit.

"Touché," he said. She smiled modestly.

They headed towards the elevator. "I talked to Eames last night," said Bobby.

"I heard you fall over, what'd' you find out?" She pressed the down button.

Bobby gave her a reproachful glare. "The man who bought the violin at auction is Carey Lawrence, 45, married with 2 teenagers, told her that he bought the violin as an investment."

The door opened and they stepped on. "An investment?" said Barek with surprise.

"I know. She's going to interview him formally today." He pressed the L button and the doors closed.

"She letting Mike help?"

"Doesn't sound like it."

"Poor thing. She must be having a tough time," said Barek sympathetically.

"Don't pity Eames," said Bobby shortly. "She's conventional and independency works just fine for her."

"Sorry," said Barek, bowing her head as the door dinged open.

"It's not your fault. You don't know much about us. And I'm just tired," he sighed.

They walked out through the Lobby and to the lot where their rental car was parked.

"You speak German?" asked Bobby.

"Yah, why? Do you?"

"Yep, just checking," he said as he put the keys in the door. They got in and then drove away.

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Forty-five minutes and six massive traffic circles later they pulled up in front of a tiny house where the violin shop was.

They walked up and Bobby knocked on the door; an old woman in an apron answered it. "Good morning," said Bobby in German. "Is Mr. Lusk in?"

"Follow me," she responded as she turned and headed back into the house. She led them into a parlor that was full of violins, violas, and cellos. The place was a mess, but it wasn't unorganized. "Have a seat, and I'll get him for you. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you," said Bobby; Barek motioned her hand in agreement.

The lady turned and left the parlor to shout up the stairs: "Michael! In the Parlor!"

Soon, Michael Lusk came wandering down the stairs and turned into the Parlor where Carolyn was sitting and Bobby was up and looking around. "Can I help you?"

He turned around at the sound of the man's voice. "Yes, I'm Detective Robert Goren from New York, this is Detective Carolyn Barek. I believe I spoke on the phone with you about a violin you sold."

"Ooh, you speak German….Ah, yes. Mary's violin. Have you found it?"

"No sir, we were wondering if you could tell us where you got the violin from and what were the circumstances under which Ms. Steinman came to own it."

"Certainly," he said. He pulled up a third chair and they both sat down across from Carolyn. "I received the violin from a banker- Markus Darrin. He came in one day about 5 years ago and sold it to me on the spot. I paid $40,000 for it. Ms. Steinman bought it several weeks later for $50,000."

"Did the Banker say where he got it from?" asked Bobby.

"No, but a few days after I sold it to Ms. Steinman, a man came looking for the exact same violin. Said that a violin of his was stolen. And asked me if I had received any violins recently."

"What did you say?"

"I told him about the violin from the Banker, but that I had just sold it."

"Did you tell him the man who sold it to you was a banker?" asked Bobby.

"Yes, I did."

"And did he asked for the Banker's name?"

"Yes, but I told him that I wasn't allowed to give that out. And I told him that it was sold. But I reassured him that the man who had sold it to me had all of the ownership and insurance papers in order. There was nothing I could do."

"What was this man's name?" asked Barek.

"I believe it was James… Karaka. Yes- Karaka." Barek began to write notes in her little pad.

"Did Karaka ask for Mary's name?" asked Bobby.

"Yes, he did. He asked me for the name of the person who I sold it to. But I didn't tell him that either. I asked him why he didn't file a police report. He said that he did, but that the police were of no help."

"What did he do after that?"

"Nothing. He just left."

"And that's the last time you saw him?"

"Yes- but a few days later my shop was broken into. None of the instruments were taken though-"

"But your records were," finished Bobby.

"Yes," he said. "I filed a report, but they were never able to catch the man who did it."

"And you think it was this James Karaka? Mary's sales record was stolen?"

"As well as Mr. Darrin's, but I have copies," he said getting up from his chair and walking across the room to a cabinet where he pulled out an old shoebox.

"Could we have copies of those?" asked Bobby.

"Of course, let me get some fresh forms and I'll copy them over for you."

Lusk began to copy the records over. "Excuse me, Mr. Lusk, may I try some of the instruments?" asked Bobby.

"Certainly, this may take me a minute or two."

Bobby went over to the corner of cellos and began to try them out one by one. He took out his cell phone and began to take a few pictures with it to text to Alex.

"Robert," said Carolyn in English, bringing him crashing back down to earth. "Here, I brought a digital camera," she said pulling it out of her purse.

"Thanks," he said and he retook the pictures.

"All done," said Mr. Lusk cheerfully in his native German.

"Thanks very much."

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As soon as Bobby and Carolyn were back in their little rental car, Bobby pulled out his cell phone.

"Eames, guess what we just found out…"


	11. No Content Whatsoever

Chapter 11

"Eames, Ich sprach gerade mit dem Violinenhersteller, er gab -."

"Bobby; English."

"Oh, sorry. I just spoke to the luthier, he gave me the history on the Steinman violin."

"And?"

Bobby told her all about the luthier, the banker, and Karaka. "I think it's interesting that a nobody brings in a violin, and then a few weeks later someone comes looking for it- even to the point of stealing to find out where it is."

"That is interesting."

"Anything new turned up since last night?"

"Nothing yet, but I'll let you know if anything happens. It totally sucks not having you here. It's like-" She hesitated. It would sound so cliché to say 'I'm lost without you', but that wasn't exactly what she was trying to articulate either. "I don't know, it just sucks."

"Don't say that, Eames. I think we were just in a rut. It's probably good for us to stretch our legs a little so we can come back fresh. You'll figure it out, I'm sure. Your personality type is strong enough that you'll know what to go for and how-"

"Bobby, don't analyze me, just… get your shit done and come home…I miss you," she added quietly.

Bobby turned and glanced at Carolyn for a brief moment. "You too."

"Well, I'd better get back to digging through records. If it turns out Karaka had anything to do with this, then I should check to see if he has any history with the Steinmans."

"That's a good idea. I'll run his name through the system here, could you do the same there?"

"Yah, sure."

"Well, I've got to drive or I'll never get us back to the hotel in one piece."

Eames chuckled pathetically. "Ok, I'll talk to you later…"

"Bye."

"Bye."

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Eames pulled up to Richard Steinman's house, got out, and knocked on the front door.

A tall man with graying hair answered it. "Hi, Mr. Steinman."

"Hi Detective, come on in." He stepped aside and closed the door behind her. "What can I do for you? Have you found anything new?"

"I came to ask you if you had ever heard of a man named James Karaka."

"Karaka…Karaka… I don't think so, why?"

"Had anyone ever asked your wife about her violin? Perhaps shortly after she bought it?"

"Not really… well, there was a gentleman came up to her at one of her concerts about a year or so ago and asked her about it- where she had gotten it, how old it was, things of that nature."

"And she told him?"

"That's what she told me. She loved that violin… she bragged about it every chance she got. It was her baby," he said, tears welling in his eyes.

"Do you remember what the man looked like? The one who was asking her about her violin."

"I wasn't there, she just told me about it when she got home, she was so excited that someone was so interested in her. Apparently he was very complimentary. She was glowing," he said smiling as he sniffled.

Alex smiled slightly. She owed it to him to sum up what was going on. "My partner is in Stuttgart right now were he interviewed the luthier your wife bought her violin from. Apparently there was a man there who claimed that the violin had been stolen from him and he…"

"He killed my wife to get it back?" he asked, horror struck.

"We don't know. Only one violin has been recovered so far, and it isn't your wife's. It may be an isolated incident unrelated to the crime, but we're just checking all of our bases. Your information today is very helpful. Thank you." She got up to leave.

"Thank you, Detective," he said, sniffing again before opening the door for her.

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Bobby inserted the electronic key into the lock and opened his hotel room door. Oh man, it had been such a long day, and it was only dinner- well, it was only dinner in Germany. It was more like lunch according to his body, which had been up since 2am, not the cozy 9am the German clocks had so earnestly tried to convince him of.

He shook his fist at the alarm clock on the night stand. "I've a mind to reset you to show what time it _really_ is- that'll show 'em…" Yep, he definitely needed a nap. He fell onto his bed, and just as his eyes closed he heard a soft _tap tap tap_.

"Damnit…" he mumbled. He dragged himself to his feet (that had still been hanging off the side of the bed until that point), and walked to the door to look through the peephole; it was Barek. He opened the door.

"Hi, Robert- oh, sorry," she said upon seeing the look of oncoming sleep in his eyes. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really; haven't been back long enough to fall asleep yet."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go down to the lobby to get some coffee, but-" she turned to leave.

"Wait," he said, touching her arm to get her to turn around. She turned and looked at is outstretched hand. "Uhm, let me make some up here in the pot- you want to come in-?"

"That's ok,' she said, quickly cutting him off. "You go back to sleep, I'll see you later." And she turned quickly and walked back down the hallway to her room.

Bobby shook out his tired head, closed the door with a slightly confused look, and then fell back on his bed again.

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Carolyn Barek sat in an armchair in her hotel room, staring out the window at the street below. She was tired, but very much awake.

Of all the things she could have been thinking about, why bobby? Why now? He seemed so perfect. Just as smart, but in his own weird way. They had similar pasts, similar styles, hell, even similar personalities. They'd be perfect partners! If… Logan hadn't needed a partner… and Goren hadn't already been with Eames… _Where have I been for the past 5 years? _she thought to herself. _But then again, it's probably better this way. Look what happened last time a female was partnered with Goren… oh wait, that was Eames, and they're still together… _together_ together…I'm such a child…_

She continued to stare blankly out of the window, bits of her hair hanging in her face, until she was surprised out of her stupor by a knock at the door. She knew who it was (who else could it have been?).

"Come on in, it's open," she said, not lifting her gaze off of a couple walking down the street.

"Hey," said a timid Bobby, "Deakins just called, wanted an update."

"You told him about the Steinman violin?"

"Yah, Eames knows more than I do, she can connect the dots for him." He slowly stepped through the door, tracing the pattern of the carpet with his eyes (it was starting to get on his nerves- the colors were all wrong and it wasn't symmetrical…). "He still wants to talk to you, though." He looked up at her. There was obviously something on her mind but he really didn't know her that well and, unlike suspects and perps, he had a respect for her personal boundaries.

"Ok, I'll call him, she said, finally breaking her stare from the street. She got up and turned to face Bobby.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yah, fine," she said, regaining herself. "Just tired."

"You and me both- well, I'm going to call the PD to get them to run Karaka's name through their system; see if they know anything."

"Sounds good."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Deakins hung up the phone. Twenty minutes ago he had talked to Goren, 10 ago to Barek, and just now to IAB to give them 'the business' for infecting 4 of his best detectives (among which were his best two- naturally) with the lethargy that IAB seemed to have by the bucket-full. Barek sounded unhappy, Logan was bored, and Bobby sounded (only mildly) unstimulated, but Deakins had a notion of why- He looked through the window for Goren's partner…

He looked across the squad room to where Eames was sitting at her desk, talking animatedly on the phone. She dropped her arm on the table with a loud thump and began sifting through a pile of papers.

"Must be Bobby," he mumbled. He walked out of his office and up behind her, though she didn't turn around. She must not have noticed him.

"Yah, here it is," she said, holding up what appeared to be her notes on Lawrence. "…Yah, he is," she said, appearing to scan the paper. "Ok… No, Bobby, you don't need to be tested…"

"Tested for what?" spoke up Deakins.

Alex turned around with surprise, putting her hand over the receiver, almost rolling over Deakins' shoe. "Oh, sorry captain, didn't know you were-"

"Yah right," he smiled. "What gave me away?"

"Saw your shadow," she grinned.

"Aha. You seem happy; anything good I should know about?"

"Well, only 3 more days till Bobby comes home-"

"I meant with the case," he said, still smiling.

"Yah, Germany's got a file for Karaka; they're faxing it over soon. Other than that, nothing since when you last talked to Bobby." She looked at her watch. "Which was only about 20 minutes ago I believe. Uhm, they leave for Paris tomorrow morning… their time…"

Deakins watched as she trailed off and the giddy smile disappeared from her face. "Eames, I'm sorry you're stuck here. I just got off the phone with the Commissioner and IAB won't be pulling a stunt like that again."

She smiled again. "Thanks, Captain."

"Don't mention it," he said, patted her back, and then walked back to his office. Eames directed her attention to the phone again.


	12. This Is How Things Stood II

Ok, it's time to bring them home. It's so hard writing fluff for BA when they're not even on the same continent… That leaves the summing up of things…see, this is what happens when I am forced to write an 8 page calculus paper… my mind gets all fuzzled… thanks a lot Mr. Wyss…

Chapter 12- Now This Is How Things Stood II (say it in your best Sean Connery accent)

Barek boarded the plane, followed by Bobby. She threw her carry-on bag into the seat by the window, threw her person in after it, and then accidentally threw her head into the wall.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, rubbing the bump on her head, much to the bemusement of Bobby.

He calmly put Alex's laptop bag under the seat in front of him, slid gracefully into his seat, and then buckled his seat belt like a good boy.

Paris had been quite the trip; all stress and no progress. The luthier in Paris had just died literally 2 days before they got there and all Carolyn could get out of his weeping widow was that her late husband made excellent violins. All Bobby could get out of his assistants in the shop was that the man was too old to be using that saw; accidents like that were bound to happen.

Once Bobby had finally managed to gain access to the luthier's records, all he could find was evidence that the man really _was_ too old to be doing this. The notes were in scribbled French shorthand that nobody in the shop seemed to be able to decipher. And though his financials were in excellent order, they still could find no record of the Dominguez violin ever having passed through the place, let alone being sold to her.

"Well, shit," had been Alex's response over the phone.

So, Robert and Carolyn had left the place and then proceeded to the Police Headquarters to try to access financial records concerning violins, but not before Bobby had stopped to try to buy some cheese. This was the most stressful of all of the events as Bobby was no cheese expert and the man behind the counter kept giving him more and more outrageous cheese to try while Barek just stood in the background and laughed. She obviously knew what all of the cheeses were, but felt like having her moment in the sun. For some reason, women seem to know more about cheese than men do.

So, continuing on… no such luck at the police station either. I won't go into the details of why, but lets just leave it at "unsuccessful."

So, they puttered around Paris for the next day and a half. Bobby took pictures (with Barek's camera) of all of the places he could find that Alex might like. And Barek took pictures of interesting women for Mike. Hot Women, ugly women, women who shouldn't be dressed like that; all sorts of women. She had a feeling he'd like the good looking girls, but'd get a real kick out of the one's who didn't have enough sense to dress themselves properly.

So, here they were on the plane now, finally going home. It had seemed like forever to the both of them, though for Alex the time seemed to fly. She hardly slept the entire time, constantly keeping busy with notes, interviews, and all of the follow up procedure involving the Dominguez violin. She had been most put out when Bobby and Barek were unable to get any leads through the luthier.

"Bastards," she had muttered over the phone. "I am going to kill you, Bobby."

"You're only saying that because you can't see me right now."

There had been an awkward pause…

"Shut up. I _will_ kill you when I get my hands on you."

"I can't wait to see you," muttered Bobby.

The look on Alex's face had immediately changed. She must have melted in her chair. "I miss your nose," she said in a voice that wasn't hers.

"My nose?"

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He stepped off the plane, walked through the little tunnel thingy (the name escapes me), went through the door to the concourse, and…

"Barek!"

Bobby wasn't aware of this, but right then his nostrils flared and he got a look of total hatred on his face, followed almost instantly by a look of bitter disappointment.

"Relax, wise-guy. She's just in the bathroom," said Mike Logan as he walked up to Barek and took her bag to carry.

Bobby immediately looked towards the ladies room where he saw Eames coming out. She saw him, smiled, and walked over a little faster than her usual pace. When she got up to him she held out her hands and flicked water in his face.

"Always wanted to do that," she said smiling as she looked up at him.

Bobby wiped the water drops from his face. "Right," he said. He then grabbed Alex around her torso under her arm, lifted her up, and kissed her.

Mike stopped short as he was approaching them. "Ok," he said, then turned and walked in the opposite direction. Barek tugged on his jacket sleeve.

"Just give them a second," she said quietly.

A second went by, then two, then three… they were now approaching their 40th when Mike coughed loudly. "I hate to break the love birds up, but parking _is_ $8 an hour."

Barek smacked him on the arm. "Ow!" he said, before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Nothing," he responded.

Eames' cell phone rang. She and Bobby separated as she fumbled through her jacket to find the source of the ringing. She flipped open her phone, took a quick look, and then threw Mike the bird before she picked up her bag from the ground and walked back towards them with Bobby in her wake.


	13. You Owe Me Dinner

---- thanks for the "jetway" help... i'm sorry this chapter is sucky, but it moves the plot along, which I needed to do... i'll have a good fluffy one up soon- i swear!

Chapter 13

Alex's digital clock told the dark room that it was now 4:30 in the morning, but she didn't know that, and neither did Bobby. They were lying, both still fully clothed, together on her bed sleeping more soundly than they had in weeks. Alex was curled up in a ball and Bobby was sort of a barrier between her and the sides of the bed.

Six a.m. rolled around and the alarm clock decided it was time to make the hour known to the rest of the free world. Alex shifted and groggily climbed over Goren to shut the alarm off.

As she was stretched across him she felt a hand trace the curve of her torso from under her arm to the top of her hip. She immediately slammed the snooze button on the alarm and threw herself into Bobby.

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"Goren, Barek, good to have you back," said Deakins as he crossed the room towards his office.

"Good to be back, sir," was Bobby's response.

"I'm tired- I want vacation," was Barek's.

"You just got a trip to Paris," Deakins said over his shoulder as he entered his office and closed the door.

"Not the same."

"I wouldn't have thought so," said Alex with a grin. Barek sent a tired smile back.

"Yah, well, you're motive was a little different now, wasn't it?" said Logan with a smirk.

Alex stuck her tongue out at him.

"Come on, Mike, ease up," said Barek.

Just then, Deakins stuck his head out of the door. "Logan, Barek, in here." he said.

"Yay! Work!" said Mike a little too enthusiastically (and a little too sarcastically).

Alex shook her head. "That boy ain't right. I'm gonna go get the mail and faxes," she said, rolling her chair back.

"I'll come with you," said Bobby, getting up as well.

They walked over to the row of mail slots and Alex peered inside the one that read "Eames/Goren." She reached inside and pulled out a bunch of papers.

They had asked al of the local luthiers and auction houses to send over copies of the paper work on all of the violins they had sold since the date of the first murder. Alex didn't feel like dealing with incompetent people. _Save them from themselves before we have to save them from me _was her motto.

"Nothing here," she said. "One of the luthiers sent over all of the paper work on a violin he just sold- it doesn't even look like any of the missing ones," she said.

"But it's got the dots on the scroll and the tailpiece is identical."

"Look- the flame is too wide, you can see it right there," she said, pointing to the photo of the back of the violin.

"But the varnish is-"

"The varnish isn't anywhere near right. And look, Bobby, it's got the luthier's label on the inside. He just made this one last year."

"Ok, you win. Anything else?"

"The CSU report from the last crime scene- certainly took 'em long enough. No DNA found at the scene except the victims… and, yours, but you probably forgot your gloves, didn't you? Uhm… nothing special-"

"Hey- there's a page missing."

"What?"

"It jumps from page 6 to page 8."

Alex looked at the pages more closely. "What the hell?" she asked, flipping it from page 6 to page 8, then back to page 6 again looking at it expectantly- like page 7 was supposed to appear now. She sighed. "I'll have them send a new one."

"And I'll have this dusted for prints."

But Alex wasn't listening. "What kind of dumb-ass would steal pages from a confidential police report and not notice that they were numbered? Wouldn't it be easier- and safer- to just photo copy them?" Alex closed the folder and looked at it contemplatively. Her focus shifted from the folder in her hands to the floor… "Oh, look, there it is," she said and bent over to pick it up.

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Logan logged off the computer grumbling to himself. "They used to do all of this by themselves before we got here, what's so special about them now?" He got up, walked over to the printer, snatched the papers from it and sorted them into folders. He walked over to his desk, set down the pile of folders, quickly scribbled something on a purple sticky note and then took the folders and sticky note to Eames' desk.

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Alex and Bobbygot back totheir desks and Eames sat down next toBobby. "Hey, Eames, there's something on yourdesk."

She reached over and picked up the folders. There was a purple sticky note on the top that read, "You owe me dinner," in Logan's handwriting.

"Yah right, you bastard," she muttered, removing the sticky and opening the first folder. "Oh great, what's all this about?"

Inside was a picture of the Steinman violin, then there was a receipt from an auction house, tax papers, and everything else documenting the sale of the Steinman violin.

"Bobby," she said, not looking up as she passed him the folder. She opened the next one. Inside was the file on a man named Mark Jones, whose name was on the auction receipt.

She passed that folder to Bobby and opened the next. It was the Germany record on James Karaka, but there wasn't a photo.

"Don't they take mug shots of these guys when they arrest them?" she asked before passing the folder to Bobby.

"I don't know," he said absentmindedly. "Let's go."


	14. A German Immigrant

Agh! Sorry it's been so long since I last updated. I got side tracked with Memory… then Cinderella… I promise to get a few more chapters up before I get distracted again (I had a brilliant idea last night, but had to store it away to work on this)… Thanks!

And I guess it's time for another disclaimer… I do not own nor have I ever owned any of the characters associated with Law & Order: Criminal Intent. I write these stories to get some much-needed attention from people who don't know how pathetic I am (that and I like imagining VDO tripping over his pants). By reading this disclaimer Dick Wolf & Co. are waiving any right to sue…

Chapter 14 

Bobby and Alex climbed into the SUV, preparing to head to Mark Jones' home. However, due to the lack of each other's company for some time, they had one thing to do first…

Some time later, after Alex had managed to pull herself away from Bobby before she got any visible marks on her neck, she turned the key in the ignition, only to discover the car was already running.

"Are you sure you should be driving?" Bobby asked with a grin.

"Shut up, I'm perfectly fine to drive," Alex said smartly.

"I really did miss you," Bobby said, reaching a hand out to Alex's cheek.

"I know," she said, calming down. "And I missed you too, but I'm glad to have proper focus back on the case."

"I think we need it," he said, looking at her adoringly.

"I would say so. But the distraction is nice as well." She leaned over and kissed him, then pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Mark Jones' house.

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"Mr. Jones? I'm Detective Eames, this is my partner, Detective Goren."

"Nice to meet you," answered the tall man in a German accent.

"We'd like to ask you some questions about the violin you just purchased," she said.

"Mark Jones. That's a pretty common American name for a German person," Bobby piped up.

"Yes, well, my parents were pretty common," he answered curtly.

"Mr. Jones, how did you hear about the violin?" Alex asked.

"A friend of mine who works at the auction house. Why are you so interested?"

"The violin you bought was stolen and its owner was found murdered."

"Oh my goodness. I had no idea," he said, cupping his mouth.

"Where in Germany were you born?" Bobby asked.

Every now and then Alex got annoyed at his seemingly unrelated line of questions. At first she thought he was just ignoring her. But once she learned to step in and continue her own lines of questions, she found out that having two things to think about at once kept the person off guard and more likely to give an honest answer… most of the time. That, and Bobby usually had a reason for asking what he did. The advantage was two fold, though it took her a while to see it and get past its annoying qualities.

"Berlin."

"What was the name of your friend at the auction house?" she asked.

"Luke Masters."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, but we're going to have to confiscate the violin and return it to its rightful owner."

"I thought she was dead, I am its rightful owner," he said rather quickly before stopping short and looking at each of the detectives. Bobby's eyebrows shot up in interest. "I had no idea it was stolen. If I had known I certainly wouldn't have bought it. Is this really necessary?"

"Mr. Jones, when did you immigrate to America?" Bobby asked.

"Two-thousand one, why?"

"The violin, Mr. Jones," said Alex, returning him to the matter at hand. Mark reluctantly turned and walked into the dining room where a violin case sat on the table.

"Here she is, Detectives. Please try not to hurt her." He handed Bobby the violin.

"We'll try," said Alex, though she didn't really mean it. She was just giving her usual smart-ass response. "Thank you very much, Mr. Jones. We'll be in touch."

"I certainly hope so."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex and Bobby left the house and walked back to the SUV. "I don't recall mentioning that the victim was female, do you?" Bobby said.

"It's been all over the papers, he might have put two and two together," Alex responded.

"I don't know; he seemed awful defensive of it. And he came to America shortly after Karaka reported the violin stolen."

"What do you know," Alex said with a grin. "A German immigrant comes along a long lost violin…"

"It's a match made in heaven."


	15. False Identities

Chapter 15

Alex walked up to her desk where Bobby was sitting, accompanied by Deakins.

"Get up, Sherlock," she said, patting the back of the chair.

He smiled before getting up and returning to his own seat. "Whatcha got, Eames?" Deakins asked.

"The banker, Markus Darrin, who sold Mr. Lusk the violin in Germany, doesn't exist. Not with the bank he said he was from, or even in Germany, which figures. It was just a phony ID, so we have no way to link him to Karaka."

"There probably isn't a connection," Goren said. "Even if there is, unless Darrin has resurfaced here somewhere, it's probably not important… at least not to us, anyway."

"And, it's going to be next to impossible to find out who he actually is," Deakins added. Alex nodded in agreement.

"Yah," she said, thinking about it. "Well, what's interesting is that Mark Jones actually exists in Germany. They sent over his records and I have his immigration records as well. But what'sweird is that there _is_ no record. No parking tickets, no financials, nothing at all. There's no documentation to prove that he even did so much as to sneeze after he was born. My guess is that they're forged papers, and he's not actually Mark Jones."

"Great," said Deakins. "Two guys who aren't who they say they are in under two minutes. You're on a roll."

"He probably had inside help setting it up, then," Bobby added.

"Probably," she nodded. "So, we're sure Jones is Karaka?"

"If it's not him, it's definitely someone connected to him," he replied. Alex saw his eyes shift focus from her to Barek, who was standing in the background talking to Logan. Barek gave a glance at Bobby, and quickly turned away when she saw Eames watching her…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You're apartment is so much nicer than mine. Why are we always over at my place?" Alex asked surveying Bobby's apartment.

"I don't know. Your place is closer, I guess," said dully as he rummaged through the refrigerator.

Alex nodded wearily and followed him into the kitchen. "I'm tired," she said as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and began to nuzzle his back- she was way too short to nuzzle his neck.

He merely shrugged as he continued to work around her hold.

"You all right Bobby?" she asked.

"I guess," he said, shrugging her off again.

"Nice try." She turned him around.

"What, I have to be lovey dovey with you all of the time?" he asked agitatedly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked indignantly.

"Nothing," he said, turning away from her.

"Don't give me that crap, Bobby. You were gone for over a week- I won't even mention the subject that it was with another woman- and now you're back! You certainly seemed _lovey dovey_ with me in the car, or was that just your lower brain talking?" she spat. She was about to open a can of worms that she would regret.

"Excuse me?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Bobby, you were gone for so long-"

"It was only a week-"

"But it felt like ages to me!" She paused. "What happened while you were in Germany?" she asked finally.

"What? Nothing!"

"Don't give me that! Barek's been acting strangely since you got back- you're not the only person who watched people," she added at seeing the look on his face. "I want to know what happened!"

"Alex, you're over reacting."

"Just tell me, Bobby."

He took hold of her shoulders and sunk to her eye level. "Nothing. That's just it- nothing. The tension was there, I could feel it in the _air,_ Alex, but believe me when I swear to you that nothing happened. That's the problem-"

Alex was afraid now. "Why is that a problem, Bobby?" she asked, her whole body beginning to shake with rage and fear.

He sighed. "Because the tension is still there. I didn't deal with it. I just kept so bottled up because I missed you. I wasn't able to talk to her because I was always thinking about you-"

"Then maybe you should stop thinking about me. That'll solve your _issue_!" She yanked away from his grip and headed for the door, completely forgetting about her purse and coat.

"Eames, listen to me- you asked, I'm telling, now let me finish!"

"I don't want to know," she mumbled before slamming the door behind her.

"Damnit!" he shouted. He punched the counter hard.


	16. The Berlin Philharmonic

Chapter 16

Alex stormed into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. She shouted in frustration. She stomped across the room to her kitchenette and began to throw open cabinets, but couldn't find anything that she wanted. She angrily searched the apartment for something that would relieve her frustration, but found nothing.

She shouted again, and began to pick up after her short rampage. She slammed the cabinet door shut and finally collapsed on the floor crying. She tried to replay the events in her head, but her anger didn't want her to- wouldn't let her. She would much rather be mad at him than face even the smallest possibility that it had been her fault. She had shut down so utterly and completely that none of those thoughts crossed her mind. She was just so upset anda total wreck. She sobbed in frustration for some time…

* * *

Bobby began to pace his apartment, deep in thought. He was so certain it had been her fault. "_She's the one who brought it up!"_ He told himself. But he still felt guilty. It had taken him so long to even begin to express himself properly, but by the time he knew what he wanted to say, she had already become angry and upset. Robert Goren had never felt more like 'a guy' in his life.

There was one thing he was sure of though; they had to resolve this before tomorrow. They had work to do, and even if she wasn't happy with him, he needed to clear the air. He couldn't go to Barek, though. How could he talk to her now without implying that their tension had caused a fight between him and his partner? _"Sorry, Carolyn, but I need to be totally clear: are you in love with me? Because Eames won't speak to me again unless I straighten things out. How soon can I push aside your feelings of affection to regain hers?" _If his fight with Eames had been any kind of example, no matter how he tried to talk to Barek, it would end up coming out that way to her. She would only hear that. "Agh! Women!" he shouted.

He was so damn frustrated. How was he ever going to clear things up before they had to interview Luke Masters? But then again, why was it even his responsibility to fix things? His entire life he had done nothing but fix things that were broken. Eames was the one who had brought it up- if she didn't want to know, she shouldn't have asked…

No matter how much Bobby tried to convince himself he was in the right, and Eames had been in the wrong, he still had an overwhelming desire to fix things. He was upset at her, but knew that he loved her very much. This had all started with _his_ tension, even if Alex had brought it up. The best thing she could do- and had just done for him- was to help him open up and face his feelings… and all he could think about now was how her helping him had hurt her… a tear leaked down his face.

* * *

Office of Luke Masters

"Mr. Masters, I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Goren. We'd like to ask you some questions about the violin you illegally sold," she said sharply.

"I'm sorry, but like I told the other Detectives, I had no idea it was stolen," he said defensively. "I'll be happy to answer any questions you have, but I don't know how helpful I'll be." Luke Masters was a short, balding, middle-aged man with a thick Brooklyn accent. He gave the impression of being a total sleezeball.

"We'll see," Alex said skeptically. "Who did you get the violin from?"

"A trusted colleague."

"Does this trusted colleague have a name?"

"Actually, he doesn't. Part of the contract was his anonymity."

"He sold you a stolen violin- we won't even need a subpoena to revoke his 'anonymity'. I am in no mood to play games, Mr. Masters. Who sold you the violin?"

He gave her a sigh and said reluctantly and with some thought, "Markus Darrin."

Both Bobby's and Alex's eyes shot up. "You're sure that's his name?" Bobby asked.

"Yes," he said irritably.

"We're going to need his address and contact info," Alex said.

"I really don't have it. That's part of his anonymity. He won't give it to me."

Eames let out an annoyed grunt. Things just weren't going her way.

"How well do you know Mark Jones?" Bobby asked.

"I've known him since he came from Germany. He's been looking for the perfect violin for ages!" This seemed to be a subject he was interested in...

"Does he play?"

"Oh yes! Like a pro!"

"_Like _a pro, but _not_ a pro?"

"No," he answered regretfully. "He told me he took an audition in Berlin some time ago, but he didn't get it. His violin was stolen just before his audition, poor guy. He freaked. So, he's been working with me to find the perfect violin. He finally found it too- damn shame it was stolen…"

"He did seem rather attached to the violin when we had to confiscate it and give it back to its rightful owner."

"Oh yes, he _was_ attached to it. I believe he even went so far as to work out a deal with the victim's husband to buy the violin ligit he wants it so bad."

Bobby thought for a second and then said, "Thank you very much. Eames, do you have anymore questions?"

She flared her nose and gave him the look of death. "No," she hissed. Luke gave her a concerned look.

"We'll be in touch," Bobby told him, and then he left, followed by Alex.

* * *

This definitely wasn't good. They now had enough of the pieces of the puzzle to put it together and solve this one, but they couldn't because they weren't speaking.

"_It's time to fix this now,"_ Bobby decided. He knew his partner was stubborn enough to ride her anger far into the future and he didn't want that.

He wanted to solve this case, and more importantly he wanted his partner back- he wanted _Alex _back. It was time to swallow his pride…


	17. Consider Yourself Robbed

Chapter 17

_6years earlier..._

James Karaka was a tall and lanky man. His fingers were over large for the violin. He would have been more suited to a cello or bass (as _everybody_ would be), but he had started playing violin when he was only 3 years old; his fingers weren't so long then.

James was standing in his study, his violin and bow in his left hand, and a pencil in his right. He was frantically writing notes on his music. He took a deep breath, returned the pencil to the stand, and resumed playing position.

If there was one thing James's teacher couldn't have stressed enough to him, it was preparation for an audition. What person in their right mind (let alone a violinist- there are millions of them!) would attempt to take a seat with the Berliner Philharmoniker without having at least 2 to 3 years of preparation? It was insane to think otherwise.

James had one (albeit very small) advantage: he was a man. European orchestras simply don't accept women, especially when the auditions aren't blind. And why would they? Men were superior to women in almost every single way. A woman trying to match the musical talent and finesse of a man was like… well, it was impossible. Women didn't get orchestra jobs in Germany, and with good reason.

This was the only small piece of comfort he carried. His fear was that there was a woman out there who could beat him- well, that there was _any person_ out there who could beat him, regardless of sex. He was relieved to find out that the live auditions would not be blind. It is a true testament to his character how much this mattered to him. He also desperately needed to be able to see what the judges thought of him.

But James looses focus. Back to practicing. He has work to do. He opened up the Sibelius violin concerto. Two hours later he is satisfied with the cadenza and finally plays through the first movement completely, video recording himself so he can critique it later that night.

He had a cup of coffee, and then moved to Mozart's 3rd concerto. Through the 16ths, around the legato, and full steam through the cadenza. Mozart's not so hard really. It's just tough to play it well. He'd watch that tape as well.

He took a one-hour break to watch some TV with his father (with whom he still lives- even after his 25th birthday), and then went back to practicing.

Beethoven, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Strauss, Schumann, Prokofiev, more Mozart, Bach, more Bach, and still more Bach. Four hours later his overlong fingers are exhausted, and he has run out of tapes to record himself with.

James called it a day.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning James awoke and went down stairs to a scene of total disarray. His father was lying face down on the floor, the window was open, and his violin was nowhere in sight.

"No, no," he kept saying over and over again. He looked everywhere and overturned every piece of furniture, but it was no good. His violin was gone. His pride and joy. The violin that had been with him since the beginning. Twenty-two fucking years! And it was gone. The rubbed away varnish on the neck from his thumb, the scratched scroll from the wall, the brand new chin rest from his father, the engraved tailpiece from the mother who left him as a child, and… well…

James's brain must have been wired a little too tightly for a musician. Every minute of practicing he ever did, every tape, every audition, every single fucking thing having to do with the violin came roaring back into his mind. He saw every single second of his life all at once, culminating with the vision of him walking onto the concert hall stage, lifting his violin to his chin, and having it fall out from underneath him, disappearing like grains of sand, with the judges (including the concert master of the Berliner Philharmoniker) looking down upon such a pitiful boy who would dare present himself for a seat with the greatest orchestra in Europe, and possibly the world.

James Karaka couldn't take it. He snapped. But not before he calmly awoke his father and called for medical attention, not before he called the police to report the theft, and not before he found a single business card laying neatly upon his stack of audition music. It read: "Markus Darrin. Chief Financial Officer. Plunder and Flee Bank."

_Consider yourself robbed._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex was sitting on the kitchen floor with a glass of whiskey when she heard a knock at the door. She looked up, then got up, and cross the room.

She looked through the peephole to see exactly who she had expected it to be. She opened the door with a look that said, _"This had better be good."_

"Alex… I'm sorry," he said sighing. "I want to explain. I don't think you gave me a fair chance to explain- no; let me finish- I'm sorry I hurt you. I should have talked to Barek, I should have told you, I should have… well; I should have done a lot of things. But I needed you to listen, and you didn't. I needed you- I _need_ you to listen."

She sniffed and took a sip from the glass. "Slow down," she said calmly. "I'm listening."

A small look of relief crossed his face. "I'm always so wrapped up with you that I let everything else go. Every other aspect of human contact goes unnoticed by me when you're involved. I'm such a social wreck- everything that I need to address, I don't. And it's all your fault… and I wouldn't change it for the world." He stepped closer to her. "There's no where else I'd rather be," he said softly, reaching a hand out to stroke her cheek. "I'd ignore heaven and earth for you."

At this she giggled. "That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard."

He stepped closer. He could smell the whisky on her breath- she hadn't had much, but he could still smell it. "Bobby, you're such an ass," she whispered.

"I know," he responded with equal volume. "But you're a _stubborn_ ass." He leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her like he had never kissed her before. He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her into him. His mouth explored hers and found all of the places that she would have used to respond with words. This was _much_ better.

He heard a glass shatter. They parted and he saw that she had dropped her glass and had now wrapped both of her arms around him.

"Come on, I'll help you clean it up," he said.

"Shut up, Bobby," she said, and she assaulted his mouth again. He made a quick motion with his arms and she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him while he carried her back inside the apartment and used her body to push the door close, all the while still kissing.


	18. A Familiar MO

I made a mistake. I had Jones immigrating to America in '97, but that's way too early. It's actually 2001, and I've updated the chapter that gives that information. Sorry about the mix up! Chapter 18 

Alex was lying on her bed, covered by Bobby, enjoying herself thoroughly (Bobby's hand slid up her hip to cup her breast), though not really going far (they were both still fully clothed), when she heard her phone ring.

She drew out the last kiss, then reached over and grabbed her cell phone. "Eames," she said.

"Alex, Luke Masters just turned up dead," Deakins said over the line.

Alex repositioned herself out from under Bobby. "When? Where?"

"At his office, they just found him about an hour ago."

"Ok, we'll be right there." She flipped the phone shut and turned to Bobby. "Masters just turned up dead at his office. We need to get over there. From the sound of it Deakins is already there."

He nodded and got up off the bed. "I need to stop by the office on the way there."

"It isn't exactly on the way, Bobby?"

"I know, but it's important. Berlin Phil was faxing my their audition score sheets from their violin auditions 5 and 6 years ago."

"Ok, fine, but you run like lightning. We need to get there before that new kid from CSU does something else stupid. He's already contaminated one crime scene and then proceeded to analyze the evidence _he_ left behind…"

Bobby slowed from his action and got a disgusted look on his face. "Oh yah, I remember that…"

"Come on, hurry up!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bobby came bounding down the stairs with a big pile of papers, jumped in the car, and Eames sped off back towards the crime scene. "Well?" she asked.

"Gimme a minute, I can't read _that_ fast," he said, perusing the pile of papers.

She continued to navigate traffic in silence while Bobby eagerly flipped through the pile of papers. "There's a note here. 'Tapes to follow.' Wonder what that means…" He continued flipping through the papers looking for Mark Jones's sheet. He didn't find it. What he found instead was one that read 'James Karaka.' "Eames, there's no sheet for Mark Jones in these… _but_ there is one for James Karaka. These are his audition score sheets. One from the conductor, holy shit, it was Claudio Abbado… uhm, one from the Concert Master, 3 from other violinists, and 1 from the Board of Directors. Man, he did not do well…"

"Does it say why?" she asked.

"Oh yah, there are at least 5 pages of notes from each person, it'll take me a while to translate them all, but from what I gather he didn't do well at all… intonation, serious comments about his bow arm and vibrato- well, that could be explained by nervousness… I don't know, I'll have to take a closer look when I have time… But there's a big marking at the end of each form- 'No finals'… didn't make it past his original audition."

"Poor guy."

"But you know what this means, right?"

"It means that James Karaka's time line matches that of Mark Jones' where Jones fails to exist."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eames pulled up to the outside of the office of Luke Masters. She and Goren got out of the car and went towards Masters' office.

"Detectives," called Deakins.

"Hey, Cap," Eames called over to him. Once they had finally reached him, they looked down and surveyed the body of Luke Masters. "He was shot in the chest?" she said, looking down at the body on the floor. Bobby bent down to poke and prod at the wound.

"Through the back. In the back, out the front," Bobby said. "That's a familiar MO…"

Alex immediately began to scan the room. "Papers are stacked neatly. Place is clean and orderly. But what's missing?" she asked Bobby.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Deakins asked.

"MO matches the violin vics- we think it was the same guy," she said absent-mindedly as she perused the room.

"You sound like Bobby," Deakins said with a grin.

"Well, it seems to work," She answered before turning back to her partner. "Why here? Why not at home?"

"I don't know- maybe he considered this his home? Everything precious to him passes through these walls, maybe that's the significance."

Alex nodded. "Sounds about right…"


	19. The Interrogation

Chapter 19

Bobby crossed the small grey room, turned on the TV, pressed play on the VCR, and sat down, savoring the sounds that filled the small reverberous room. On the screen a tall lanky man was playing the violin and he was sweating bullets.

The tape began to play and the first movement of the Sibelius violin concerto filled the reverberous room. Just as the cadenza was about to start, the door opened and Bobby's partner guided a tall lanky man into the room.

"Here we go, Mr. Jones. Get comfortable," She said, un-cuffing him and motioning towards the seat across from Bobby, facing the one way mirror.

Mark Jones, or should I say James Karaka, had a look of total loathing on his face.

"You know, James, it was very clever of you to have inside help in establishing your new identity. Most criminals don't have the knowledge or the will. You covered your tracks very well," said Bobby.

Karaka said nothing.

"I was just watching this tape. It's remarkable what orchestras record," he said, turning to watch the tape for a moment. "Luke Masters- before he died he told us you played like a pro… wonder where he got that idea?"

"You shut your filthy mouth. You know nothing about music!" Karaka spat at him.

Bobby nodded. "Well, that may be true, but we do know a thing or two about lots of other stuff."

"For instance," Alex said. "We know that Jakes Karaka stole sales records from Michael Lusk, shortly after filing a police report for a stolen violin."

"And we know that this all took place _after_ your audition for the Berlin Phil." Bobby paused the tape. "Who's that in the corner there, with the dark wavy hair? Is that… that's Claudio Abbado, isn't it? How could you embarrass yourself in front of him like that? Didn't you practice?"

"Of course," he answered calmly, though hatred filled his eyes.

"Then, how did you not get the job?" he asked.

"There were hundreds of auditions. Only one person made it, the odds were not in my favor."

"So, you're saying you weren't the best?"

"Perhaps not."

Bobby nodded and quickly adjusted his stance in the chair. "Tell me, when a person changes instruments on such short notice, how much does it affect their playing? I'm guessing tremendously. Although I'd also venture to say that the larger the instrument the greater the change. Is that right?"

"We are taught to adapt to change," Karaka said, remembering his conservatory days.

"Come on! You can never adapt to a change like that! I know what it's like to love something that much," he said leaning across the table. "That instrument was practically your lover! You'd _kill_ to get it back!"

"I did no such thing!"

"Come on, James! We know about the stolen violin, we _know_ about the stolen sales records, we _know_ that you took the audition, we _know_ when you came here, we _know_ you killed Mary Steinman and those other girls, and we _know_ that you killed Luke Masters!"

"I did not!"

"CSU found your fingerprints on Luke's papers, which were neatly arranged after you killed him," Alex piped up. "And it's because of Masters that we know you killed the other three."

"You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. How else is a busy musician going to keep track of everything that's going on around him? I've _met_ professional musicians. They've got stacks upon stacks of folders and shelves for their music. It's all about keeping what's most important in your life in order. You _had_ to have that violin back. It was 'the most important thing in your life.'" Bobby got up and rounded the table so he could stand behind Karaka.

"No, no…" James's lip began to quiver.

"What was it?" Bobby gently asked, bending down to Karaka's ear. "Was it that they didn't understand? These women, they didn't know what had been ripped from you- didn't appreciate it? And the judges- Abbado, he didn't understand what it was like to stand on stage and know that your only comfort in life was gone? Nobody believed in you? Those were the happiest times in your life- you'd never worked so hard for something so wonderful. And it was _snatched_! Right from between your fingers! Right through the window…" he whispered. "What could you do but get that back? What you wouldn't _give_ to get that back. Your violin, your life… your dignity…" Bobby pressed play on the remote and the tape started back up again.

"You were so close to getting it all back," Alex said slowly. "And then Masters had to open his big mouth…"

Karaka watched himself on the video screen. Sweat was dripping down his 25 year old face. His bow was shaking. The look of intense concentration was matched only by a look of intense fear. "Stop it!" he finally yelled. He grabbed the remote from Bobby hands and threw it at the TV. The remote broke into 3 piece and the batteries went flying. Bobby reached over and turned the TV off.

"Did Masters know the significance of submitting the violin under the name Markus Darrin?" Bobby asked.

Karaka shook his head. "No," he whispered. "He was just supposed to do what he was told."

Bobby nodded. "Well, he _did_ do what he was told, really," he said.

"But he ruined everything," Karaka said at last, leaning forward towards Bobby. "I was _this_ close to getting it all back! And that stupid bastard had to open his big mouth!" He settled down as though a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, though he knew what it all must mean.

"You killed Luke Masters?" Alex said.

"Yes, fat bastard that he was. He didn't deserve some of the things that passed through his hands…"

"And you killed those women."

"Yes," he said, letting out a shuttering breath.

"And the 2 French violins were decoys."

"Yes."

"Where are they now?"

"You've already found the one. I don't know where the other is. I sold it to a dealer."

"We'll need that name and address," she said, pushing a pad towards him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Bobby followed Alex out of the Interrogation room and into the observation room where Deakins was standing with Carver.

"Nice work, Detectives. I'll have him in Arraignment court within the hour," Carver said. He then left the room.

"Good work, guys. Make sure you get your paperwork squared away. And get those tapes and audition materials back to Germany."

"Uh, about that, Captain," said Bobby, rubbing his neck shyly. "Could I hold on to them for another week or so?"

"What for?"

"I'd like to watch them. They're really interesting."

"Oh no you don't! I'm not going to have you hogging my TV so you can watch 48 hours straight of the sameshit over and over again-"

"Why would he need your TV?" Deakins asked.

Alex stopped short and shook out her head so her hair covered her face. "Nothing," she said evasively.

Deakins looked from her to Bobby, who kind of smiled and said pathetically, "My TV's broken…"

"I don't want to know," Deakins said, putting his hand up to stop any reply. "Just get your paperwork done. You've got 3 days, then I want them back on a plane to Berlin and I want you guys back at work. I just gave Logan and Barek a new case and I'm sure I'll have one for you by then, too."

* * *

Alex sat on the couch with Bobby laying across it with his head in her lap. The TV was on, and Bobby was entering his 6th straight hour of Violin auditions, and had the corresponding judges review sheets in his hands.

"What does that say?" Alex asked, pointing to some scribbled German on a sheet that read 'Anne Lorrette'.

Bobby looked at the German writing carefully, then said, "It says that her technique is good, but she lacks musicality."

Alex looked from the sheet to the video on the screen. "I don't see it," she said.

"Neither do I, but look at the pattern her eyes follow. Once to the left hand, once to the right hand, once to the judges, and back to her left hand. She's checking herself."

"Hmm," Alex said, as she leaned over and kissed Bobby. "You about out of tapes?"

"I think there are still 2 more."

"Alright, I have to stretch, I can't sit like this all night," she said, lifting Bobby's head gently out of her lap and setting it on the couch as she went into the kitchen to make some tea.

"You know what we should do sometime?" he called to her.

"What's that?"

"We should get the videos of Wagner's Ring Cycle and watch them all on one sitting."

"That sounds ominous; what's The Ring Cycle?" she asked.

"A cruel, sick joke…" he mumbled with a grin on his face.

She came back and found Bobby moved on to the next violinist on the tape. "Whadya know, another Bach Partita," she said dryly, sitting back down on the couch. "When are we going to see a real movie?" she asked.

"Since when have you ever liked movie theaters?" Bobby asked in retaliation.

"I don't know, I just thought we could go on a real date, not sit here and psychoanalyze violinists," she said, stroking his head in her lap.

"I think this is fun," he said, looking up at her. She shook her head at him and continued to stroke his hair, and he turned his attention back to the tape. He'd do something special for her… just 2 more tapes to go…

_fin._

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Well, it's finally done! Once I had the interrogation done (of which I am extremely proud of myself for), all I had to do was add a little fluff and it would all wrap up quite nicely. I will post one more chapter with a short of dictionary of musical terms, notations, and information. It's all worth knowing a little bit about, and will help you enjoy the story a little more if you know what some of the references are…

Thanks for all of the reviews! Hopefully, I'll have a new story started soon, though I was thinking about going on a oneshot purge to save myself from an involved plot in these hectic, college audition filled times…


	21. Dictionary

If you already know all of this stuff, by all means skip it; it's just here as a resource. The underworld of classical music isn't something a lot of people know a lot about, and I thought it'd be cool to use this as an opportunity to give out a little information to enhance the story just a little bit more… enjoy!

Chapter 21

Bassoon: The original term for the bassoon is "fagotto", which literally translates into "stick of wood." And a bassoon is just that. It's a very long, thin wood wind instrument from the double reed family. A double reed is simply two reeds put together. If you've ever played in a band, you'll know about single reeds and double reeds… it's also fairly easy to look up. Contrabassoons are even cooler, check those out as well… talk about 'the brown note'….

Valse Triste by Jean Sibelius: The Valse Triste was originally written for Järnefelt's play _Death_, and in fact accompanies a deathbed scene. It's simply a sad, slow waltz.

Don Juan by Richard Strauss: Don Juan (opus 21)_ was Strauss's first and most successful tone poem. It _inaugurated a series of tone poems, all of which keep their hold on standard repertoire: _Tod und Verklärung_ (1889), to a program by Ritter; _Till Eulenspiegel_ (1894); _Also sprach Zarathustra_ (1896) (also known as the opening theme to 2001: A Space Odyssey); _Don Quixote_ for cello and orchestra (1897), perhaps his most profound orchestral work; _Ein Heldenleben_ (1898), which translates into "A Hero's Life"- it's an autobiographical piece.

Double Concerto for Violin and Cello by Johannes Brahms: This concerto was Brahms' last concerto, as well as his final composition using the orchestra. He had promised his friend, the cellist Robert Hausmann a solo concerto, but had never gotten around to writing such a work. Also, he had recently had a falling-out with his long-time colleague, the violinist Joseph Joachim, who felt that Brahms had sided with Joachim's ex-wife during their recent divorce proceedings. Through the balm of one composition, Brahms hoped to soothe three souls: Joachim's, Hausmann's, and his own.

Tone Poem: A programmatic piece of orchestral music. Usually accompanies a story or tall tale. Basically, it's exactly what it says it is: a tone poem.

Luthier: (n) a craftsman who makes stringed instruments.

Varnish: Varnish is basically the color on an instrument. It's usually oil based and you lacquer it on the wood to 1) protect the wood, and 2) to give it color and character.

Flame: The flame is the variations in the wood. If you look at a stringed instrument you can see the sort of stripes across the wood where it goes from light to dark; that's the variations in the grain of wood that reflect the light. It's called the flame. Each piece of wood has a unique flame. Maple is the most common.

Tailpiece: On any of the stringed instruments. The tailpiece is the dark triangular shaped piece of wood that holds the strings at the bottom of the instrument.

Violin Concerto by Jean Sibelius: The _Violin Concerto__ in D minor_ by Jean Sibelius is his opus 47. It premiered in 1904 in Helsinki. Sibelius withheld this version from publication and made substantial revisions. The new version premiered in 1905, in Berlin, with Richard Strauss conducting and Karel Halir as soloist. The initial version was noticeably more demanding on the virtuosic skills of the soloist and has been resurrected in recent years for some special interest recordings. The revised version is considered one of the world's most important concertos. Jascha Heifetz is generally considered to have resurrected the concerto, which he considered one of the great concertos in the violin literature.

Cadenza: A cadenza is the point in a concerto where the solo instrument is featured by itself completely. The orchestra or accompaniment cuts out, and the soloist will usually do a virtuosic variation on the main theme, showing off their greatest ability.

Scroll: That curly circular thing at the top of a violin (or viola, cello, or bass)

Claudio Abbado: Claudio Abbado was born in Milan in 1933. He studied the piano at the Milan Conservatory with his father Michelangelo Abbado, and went on to study conducting with Swarowsky at the Vienna Academy of Music. He won the 1958 Koussevitsky Competition (Koussevitsky was a famous conductor and bassist), establishing him in Italy, and then won the 1963 Mitropoulos Prize, after which he rapidly became known internationally as an orchestral and opera conductor. I have several records of the Mahler Symphonies under his baton- they are truly extraordinary…

The Ring Cycle by Richard Wagner: A four opera cycle (more than 16 hours long) that tells the tale of the Norse Gods and the _original_ Ring of Power. The third opera is the source of the famous "Ride of the Valkarys" which has been proven to cause a 50percent increase in likelihood of a car accident if you listen to it while driving. If you're really interested in The Ring Cycle, read The Nibelungenlied… it'll explain it better than I can…

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A/N: Oh, and I actually have listened to the complete Ring Cycle in one sitting- it's most excellent…Cheers! 


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